Legacy of One
by Salmon Center
Summary: AU, Shepard didn't care much for glory or fame. Only that what she was due was returned in full. But, an oversight in her part to repay her debts to Commander Alenko, tips her silent world into the clutches of the Reaper War. Set post-ME1 till end of ME2. Eventual FemShep/Garrus.
1. Prologue

A/N: Welcome everyone to the_ Legion of One_ series. Although I've been writing for ten years now, I've actually never written something Sci-fi before this fanfiction. But I am hoping to bring something new to the Mass Effect fanfiction community, especially to all fans of FemShep/Garrus. I hope that if you wish for me to continue the story, you may leave a word (advice or just a nice little note to get me going). Although, the longer and the more constructive the review, the happier I will be.

Be informed that this is an AU. And that Shepards character here is influenced by a special past I've made for her. So she's not quite as- Shepard-like as she is in the series but you'll still see her shine. In this respect, expect that a lot of the dialogue has been changed (maybe some will remain verbatim).

_Any important notes will be put on my profile hereafter, since this place has gotten stricter than I remembered. _

**Summary**: AU, Shepard didn't care much for glory or fame. Only that what she was due was given to her in full. But an oversight in her part to thank Commander Alenko for saving the galaxy and doing her favors he didn't even mean to do, tips her silent world into the clutches of the Reaper War. Set from post-ME1 till the end of ME2. Eventual FemShep/Garrus.

**Pairing/s**: FemShep/Garrus, Alenko/Williams, mentions of Garrus/others and FemShep/others. POV for now has Alenko, but later, it will focus on Garrus and Shepard POVs only.

**Warnings**: Un-beta'ed (I've proofread, but expect regular updates to come with fixing up kinks), strong language, gore, death (and possible major character death) sexual situations/conversations, violence, expect a long and drawn story with minimal fluff- since I have to build the Shepard/Garrus friendship from scratch. Updates will be once or twice a week. For now, rating will be T but will be bumped up to M soon enough because of violence.

**Shepard**: Paragade (ish), Sole Survivor, Earthborn (with a twist), Infiltrator (a little like the N7 Shadow we see in multiplayer, ME3)

**Disclaimer**: The Mass Effect series is owned by Bioware and the company's fellows. No copyright infringement is intended.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

_2183. 05. 12._

_Message Title: Let me return the favor_

_Dear Commander Alenko,_

_All of citadel space owes you their lives. But you've done me a favor of a more personal nature than you know. I'd like to thank you in person. A drink, maybe? Meet in Flux as soon as you're able._

_From,_

_A friend_

_P.S. If you feel threatened, you may bring your ground team. All of them, if you like. I owe them drinks too._

_P.P.S. If you bring your ground team, would prefer that Williams not be in it. But I know I have little hope of that happening. Just wanted it out there._

* * *

Unsure of what to make of the message, Commander Alenko stood in front of his terminal for a long, long while.

The message was different from most of the ones that ended up in his personal account. There was no sense of "awe" or "threat." And it was short and to the point. Though, the fact that the person knew about his ground team, knew about how often he brought Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, was disconcerting. If he told Ashley about this message, she would probably freak out and tell him to ignore it. He knew he was going to tell her anyway. But not alone. His ground team ought to accompany him, as the person said. And then maybe the whole team would freak out and tell him to ignore it.

Everything about it was something he _would_ usually ignore. But he was curious and intrigued. There was no way he could just leave it be.

Declaring shore leave for the Normandy for the next week, his crew was dismissed save for his ground team whom he asked to gather near the elevator at the docks.

Williams gave him a knowing smirk. "Ready to cut loose, Commander?"

Alenko couldn't help but smile back. "There's that, Chief. But, there's something else more pressing." He forwarded the mail to their omni-tools. "Someone is buying us a drink."

"Though grudgingly in Williams's case." Garrus chuckled as he read. Williams sent him a glare.

"I don't know, Commander." Liara looked up from reading the message. "This could be a trap."

Tali shook her head, with a flurry of her fingers on her omni-tool. "I can't trace where the mail came from either, there might be an ambush set for us there. Flux is barely a hole in the wall with the destruction."

"But, it's a pretty public place for a trap. Barely any good sniping vantage points since the Citadel crumbled." Garrus closed his omni-tool.

"I say, we go there and get our free drinks. And if it's a trap, we get a free fight." The whole party turned to Wrex, who just grinned back. "Tell me you guys aren't itching for a fight."

"It's only been a week since Saren, Wrex."

The krogan barked out, laughing. "Keep telling yourself that, Alenko. Pretty soon you'll be howling with the blood rage just like any krogan from all this—quiet. I say, we go to Flux and just use up this person's tab. And if the person is trouble, we kill 'em."

Alenko surveyed the faces of his team. Garrus stood at attention, doing none of the fidgeting that would tell the commander that he was ill at ease. Tali was still trying to desperately get more out of the mail than what was there. Liara just looked up at him with large, glowing eyes. Anticipating that whatever he would say next was another fascinating tidbit she could use to understand him better. Wrex was on the balls of his feet, jumping, either excited or gearing for a fight or both.

Of all of them, Williams was the most silent but the angriest. He could see it in how sharp her eyes looked just then, the same look she gave her enemies when she dared them to pull the trigger. They had grown close in this journey, and even closer before their trip to Ilos. But since the battle, their relationship was more up in the air than he would like. Despite the furtive glances and lingering touches they shared in between helping the alliance and keep the Normandy running.

"All right." Everyone snapped to attention at his words. "I've decided."

* * *

Garrus could barely believe that Alenko had actually defied Williams. Granted, that she hadn't voiced that she didn't want to meet with the mystery fan. But even with the funny way humans communicated signals to each other, even a turian like him could guess that narrowed eyes and flared nostrils was not an appeased expression.

Alenko appeared to take advantage of her silence and had told them to be on their guard, even if there was a spring in his step as they made their way down the elevator and into a rapid transit terminal to Flux.

Looking out the window made Garrus fidget, though. There was no space without debris: shattered pillars from some building or the panels or hulls from a ship. Though Garrus had to sigh with relief that the sea of dead bodies were gone, and there was some level of construction going on in the Presidium, even if he thought the wards needed more work than any other place. Some areas were still closed off since there were buildings that have collapsed entirely. In the air was the lingering scent of smoke and fire, Garrus couldn't get the smell away from his clothes for the life of him.

When they did get to Flux, the casino area had been blown off so there were two entrances: the official one and a backdoor hole. Alenko had said something about entering a house made of Swiss cheese that escaped Garrus, who just shrugged. However, the place was still alive. The owner had used the hole to expand the club further back, making it an open dance floor where the music blasted louder than ever. Inside, some of the space had been converted into a mini-casino with about three machines left functioning.

"Hi I'm—"

"Commander Alenko," the human by the door looked at them from above her long nose. Garrus and Tali exchanged confused looks. Weren't greeters supposed to be nice?

"Yes, that's—"

"This way." She swished her long black hair over her shoulder and began to walk inside. She didn't seem to care whether or not they were following. Determined to keep up, the group walked down the path between the bar and the rows of tables. The music was upbeat and furious, and despite the extra dancing space, Flux was packed. "The room that was reserved for you and your party is in our VIP wing." She brought out her omni-tool up and hit a few keys and the mechanism behind a seemingly innocent wall clicked and it slid open, revealing an elevator. Williams' jaw dropped open. Wrex looked like he was ready to buttheads in celebration.

The elevator led them down, slow as ever, and when the door slid open again it was like a completely different world from the rest of Flux. Upbeat music roared, the dance floor had clusters of people here and there but they weren't pressed as tightly as the floor upstairs. The lights were more predominantly blue and violet as opposed to the yellows and oranges. The seats were covered in high quality leather of the bovine found in Thessia. Dressed in the latest designs, the people drank and danced, detached and untouched from the battle that happened less than a week ago. Motioning them to follow her quickly, the greeter led them into a room where she had to punch another code for them to enter.

It was a club by itself inside the room. The capacity of which could have fit the two sets of the Normandy crew and then some. It had its own mini-bar, dance floor, and music system. There were also enough divans and tables for people to chat and drink. The music from the outside was completely blocked out when the doors slid shut. The greeter had mumbled something along the lines of "Leaving. Bye." before she was gone again.

Alenko wasted no time, he motioned for Tali and Garrus to check for bugs and they both nodded. Wrex just looked like somebody had given him a nest of pyjacks to kill and just sat casually on one of couches. Liara headed to the bar to survey the drink there, checking for signs of discoloration and maybe poison ("By the goddess, they have the plum wine from Thessia!"). Off the side, Alenko and Williams were sharing sharp and hissed words. Garrus barely needed to think to know what they were talking about.

Twenty minutes later, no bugs or poison found, the team heard the door ping open and they all trained their eyes to the door.

A human woman entered. She had long, straight and black hair—though, it shined red against the light— with bangs that covered her forehead. Her eyes were green, almond-shaped, and large. Her face seemed well-structured for a human woman, whose faces were usually rounder. However, hers seemed to have more angles. Apparently, it was a good thing with the way Alenko couldn't take his eyes off of her and the way Williams' was glaring at him for staring too long.

She took long, efficient strides and the door shut behind her. Garrus could tell immediately that she had formal training somewhere and kept herself in shape. Her armor was designed for agility and with little padding. The bodice of which was black, slimming an already thin waist with highlights of grey and white along the arms and the bottoms. Curiously, she had a weapon holster with what looked like a mid-length blade behind her back. Training with CQC? Martial arts?

"I hope I gave you enough time to scan the room," She looked at them with a small smile. Her voice was smooth and low. "And I have to apologize, the original greeter had passed away during the attack. Her replacement is not quite as pleasant."

How had she known the greeter was rude? Garrus looked at her through narrowed eyes. How long had she actually been around?

If she noticed him glaring at her, she didn't seem to care. "Now, I believe I owe all of you drinks."

* * *

Garrus had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Save for that one time when his father had caught him role playing "Spectre kills the bad guy" by himself when he was 12.

However, this was far more suffocating than even that. The semi-circular couch was large enough to fit them all. In the middle was a black marble table. The lady who had sent Alenko the mail had taken the seat at the very center, legs crossed with one hand on her lap and other on the drink. Alenko sat beside her, back completely straight and about an arm's length away from the woman. Williams' had decided to sit by lady's other side, keeping a glare so sharp that the woman should have dropped dead from it a thousand times over. Opposite the commander was Wrex who had downed one Ryncol after another, blabbering about blood and violence with Liara beside him, giggling about nothing. Tali sat beside her, across Garrus, looking just as tense as he felt.

Spirits, he thought. Just end already.

"You don't want more than water, Mr. Vakarian?" His mandibles twitched at the name.

"Please. Mr. Vakarian is my father. Just Garrus is fine."

The woman gave him a small smile, her eyes lit up a little as well. "Garrus, then. A proper spirit?"

His eyes flashed. "Ah, what?"

"Oh, right. Turian. I meant, would you like a proper drink?" She flushed a little, her cool demeanor seemed to fade away instantly but she seemed no less alert than before. Despite that fact that she had probably drunk as much as Wrex had by now.

"Ah. Well." He cleared his throat. He shot Alenko a look and he all but nodded. "If you can tell us what this is all about. Then maybe I don't have to feel like drinking something would be draining some kind stranger's pockets—"

"Or feel that the drink would be your last?"

He chuckled, though with a touch of nervousness he didn't want to give away. "There is that."

She looked up from the table, fingers sliding along the surface of her glass and the sweat that had built up there. Her finger came up wet when she leaned her head on it a moment later. "As I know you've read— don't give me that confused look. I know the Commander showed it to all of you. Otherwise, Williams wouldn't be so ready to kill me. Anyway, Commander Alenko had done me a favor without knowing it."

"Other than saving the galaxy's ass." Wrex grumbled out.

"Of course. But this one is of a more personal nature. Thus, free flowing drinks." She shrugged. "That's all there is to it."

The commander had seemed to find his quad then and looked at her. "And all this cloak-and-dagger?"

"Just my MO," she said with a soft laugh. "I have my fair share of enemies. I don't want them to think we know each other. But I owed you one, and so I had to risk it.

"And you've done another favor for me, actually, which I just found out before arriving." She put a card down on the table. "If there is anything you need me for—the cloak-and-dagger stuff, as you said. Then you only need to ring me. I know there are things Alliance and Council brass will frown at. Spectre or no."

"What exactly did I do for you that you're willing to expose yourself to your enemies?"

She looked at Alenko, blank faced. "That is a personal question, Commander."

"I have no idea if you're a friendly or a hostile. Not even with this—debt paying."

She shrugged. "I can't give you the details, Commander. I'm sure you'll understand. But Saren was on a friend's shitlist for a long time. I'm sure you thought his death was a necessity but the fact that he had remained a Spectre for so long sickens me.

"Second, I've heard you've been cleaning up the dog house. Which is a feat, since they're littered all over the place like shit in a garden."

"I see. So you have some beef with Cerberus as well?"

"Old grudges are timeless." She gave him a smile with a flash of teeth. Her eyes lit up too. Garrus noted that it didn't seem entirely friendly by the way Alenko's eyes narrowed. "As a friend of mine used to point out a long time ago."

"Then, my last question."

"Shoot."

"Who exactly are you?" He picked up the card and looked over it. "It's not in your card."

There it was. The commander's habit of asking an infinite amount of questions, curiosity always insatiable—he always went for the one thing he shouldn't be asking about. They've been skirting around the woman's identity for a long time. Garrus had picked up what little she was willing to talk about. She was probably former military, Special Ops even. And if she had to make powerful friends, that meant she had powerful enemies. Cloak-and-dagger, if he was translating it right, meant she was probably a spy or an assassin. The latter seemed more likely, with the knife-edge glint in her eye.

Yet at point blank range, the Commander always asked the wrong question. It had gotten them into trouble many times, though they've always managed to patch it up with bullets and explosions. Garrus still thought it was a miracle that Alenko was able to talk Wrex into standing down in Virmire because, that shouldn't have ended so well judging by the Commander's track record. And he wasn't able to convince Richardson from not activating the bomb before it was time—the poor man had wanted to make sure it went off no matter what, before they were overrun. Garrus still stared at the man's locker sometimes, wondering if things couldn't be different.

Alenko just lacked that special charisma, but his heart was always in the right place. Charming, maybe. Nothing Wrex or himself could outright respect though, at least not aloud. But even the Commander's willingness to work with aliens seemed another one of those things he was willing to do to make things easier, not because he thought of them as anything more than aliens that were useful.

"If you're asking for my name, Commander, then you've wasted a question. I've lost my name a long time ago." She downed her drink before she motioned for the on-duty bartender for some more. "Rest assured, we are on the same side."

"And you don't have a name you want people to call you by?"

"A friend of mine once said that my name was believed to be an omen. I've long since dropped it. But in my trade I'm called 'Rachel.' If you really want to put a name to the face, you may call me that."

The night went smoother after that. Rachel, as she wanted to be called, urged them to invite the rest of the Normandy over for the drinks. She was willing to spend any amount of money till the room they had reserved was no longer in rent.

When the crew arrived and the night turned slowly into day, Garrus shared a few conversations with Tali but kept a trained eye at their benefactor. She hadn't given them much to go by, but it seemed easy enough to put some trust on her, for now. And with the way she and the Commander were talking, Garrus was sure this was not the last he would hear of her.

* * *

Last updated, 02.14.2013: Grammar and tense sweep. General clean-up. / 03.06.2013 Month change to coincide with rest of timeline. / 04.05.2013 Fixed dialogue inconsistencies and other typos.

Review?


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

There were nights when she woke up not remembering whether she had dreamt or not. But those were rare and far between.

Now, she dreamt of Akuze.

She remembered her squad. All of them too young to die, but soldiers were built to accept death and understand it; taught how to hold a gun, how to throw a grenade. She remembered friends: Morris, Christina, Jason, Toombs. All of them all so worn, huddled together, guns pressed close, eyes bloodshot and empty.

The earth shook under them, she and a squad of 10, their commander all but screamed orders. No one was fast enough to follow them. Not even himself.

She remembered the enormity of the Thresher Maw. A tower of a monster as it rose from the ground, splitting the surface. With a violent screech, acid sprayed out of its mouth in a violent wave—it hit the commander first, his shield melting under it. His screams were his last orders as the Maw's jaws opened and took him in.

They lost five in the first attack. One mortally injured didn't survive the night.

So, the survivors marched, bloody and weak, took the high ground. Morris, Christina, Jason, Toombs, and herself.

Before the night ended, bullets nearly gone, the Thresher Maw went down at last. Chain of command declared that she had to give the orders now. And they waited for the shuttle to take them off-planetside.

Soldiers were ready for death, she told herself later. After it all.

But in the dream she was all alone again, the bodies of friends were gone or half eaten. Toombs had run off, somewhere, separated from the rest of the squad as the ground fractured and split. All of them: soldiers or not, she thought, they were all too young to die.

"Note the Terrain. Run. Attack. Run." She remembered her mentor's voice. She stood in front of him not more than 12 years old, shivering in the cold. "These are tactics we use against forces larger than our own. All odds are against you: if you survive you remembered what I taught you—and more— and if you don't—" He looked away from her, then. "I'll know you did all you could.

"The Legion is ready for death."

She took the arms of her fallen. Grenades they couldn't use, clips she could load into her own rifle, the mines Morris had enjoyed tinkering with, guns she could carry without being slowed down. Note the terrain. Run. Attack. Run.

She remembered everything he taught her. But she wasn't ready to die.

The blow had been unexpectedly heavy for her, who'd lived alone for so long and had stayed alive to accomplish her missions and little else. Most nights she woke, screaming, as the dreams became more and more detailed, slowly catching up to the present date. She didn't think the death of someone she barely knew would affect her like this.

It had been a few days since it was announced that Commander Alenko had died while hunting down leftover Geth. It was a sour end for a hero, being spaced by an ambush ship. From there, everything Alenko had set out to prove and fix had been dismantled by choice and simple words: "Reapers don't exist. The threat is gone."

The funeral had been equally tasteless, unnecessarily public, and in the Citadel instead of his birthplace of Vancouver. On a day where it was unnecessarily bright, they set up a coffin devoid of a body—surrounded by mostly strangers who didn't even know the Commander by name until his death. Powerful people stood at the podium, one after the other, talking about how much they knew him; how he was an asset, a true soldier: selfless, brave, powerful.

Weeping mostly, the surviving members stood the closest to the coffin. Williams stood ramrod straight and in front of all of them. Her arms folded behind her. But her face was defeated and all the tears she couldn't pull back behind the mask of a soldier slipped down her face. The rest of the Normandy wouldn't know she was crying and that was probably all the kept them from bawling. Bar the pilot, Jeff Moreau, that shook his head and closed his eyes and cried without the tears.

The rest of her ground team stood beside the Gunnery Chief. Liara T'soni wept in her hands, half-bawling and half-sobbing. Cooing and comforting, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya had an arm around the asari but even behind her suit her voice sounded broken and shaken. The turian, Garrus, stood straight as well, but with his head bowed and fingers clenching and unclenching. In the moments where he would look up at the coffin, his blue eyes would shut tightly and he would look down again. Wrex seemed the angriest; he had a feral quality to his eyes and a glare that all the politicians who stood at the podium wanted to avoid. The latter two hadn't been on the Normandy, but they had rushed over for this ceremony.

From where Rachel stood, a neighboring building with other onlookers, she had mourned with them too. After having bought the Normandy a night of drinks, she and the commander had exchanged mails. Information, mostly, about any sign of Reaper activity that she asked her contacts for in all parts outside of Citadel space.

There were occasions where they met in the Citadel. Often, he brought one member of the ground team. Mostly Garrus, whose business manner was strained but acceptable. A few times he brought Liara but her scrutiny was always unwelcomed. Once, they met for dinner in the Citadel while the Normandy was on shore leave. Surprisingly, he came alone.

"No back-up today, Commander?" She leaned back on her seat and crossed her legs.

"I would have brought Garrus, the two of you get along well enough—but as you know, he's undergoing Spectre training." He sat down in front of her and ordered some food. Unmoving, she waited for him to put down his own order. She didn't flinch even when he finally set his eyes on her. "Plus, I thought you'd appreciate that we be alone to talk business."

She chuckled. "As long as this all it is, then yes." She didn't miss the small frown that crossed his features then. Disappointed that his good looks were worthless now?

A problem with the Gunnery Chief, then? She thought. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. The Chief was tightly spun, stubborn and hotheaded. She knew what she wanted and when she wanted it. If Commander Alenko was it, she was going to fight every woman (or man) who wanted him. On the other hand, she wasn't going to make it easy for the man himself. She wanted to be won.

Difficult woman, Rachel thought, she should have left her Austen-type romance to fiction and not her real life.

She gave none of her thoughts away and smoothly, Rachel handed him the datapad she had prepared. If he needed the harmless flirting to cheer himself up? Even when she bit back a hiss, Rachel needed to remember that _the_ Commander was still a man after all. She had no right to find his flaws upsetting. Petty, though. Definitely petty. "So far, there's been nothing. But, there have been reports from some of the merc bands and slaver rings that the Collectors have been more active lately. I haven't confirmed if it was just a coincidence but it's worth a look."

He shifted through the datapad even when his food came. "Collectors? I thought they were a myth."

She shook her head. "So did I. But, there must be some truth to this. If they aren't really Collectors then maybe some group who's been indoctrinated like Saren was."

He glared at her. "Should I ask how you know about—that, when none of it is public record yet?"

"I know people in good places and they help me stay alive. And," She reached for her Merlot, twirling the contents in her glass before she took a tiny sip. "I never take the Council's word on anything."

"Let me guess, something an old friend once told you?"

"No, something I learned on my own." He sighed at her reply and she gave him a small smile before standing. "I'll let you know when something new comes up, Commander. Until then—Look, I'm sure Williams is only worried about you."

"Oh—huh?" He snapped up from his datapad.

She shrugged. "You should try to look at it from her point of view, as skewed as I think that is."

He looked up, alarmed. "What are you saying, Rachel?"

She rolled her eyes. "Williams may act like she's made of steel, but she isn't. Maybe she just wants you to make the first move. Ask her on a date. Be more confident." She gave him a mock salute before he could say anything and made her way out of the restaurant. That was about a month ago, and the last time she saw him face-to-face.

Now, his body had probably disintegrated in some planet's atmo. It was a real damn shame, she thought. He was just too young to die the way he did.

As they lowered the coffin, an empty symbol that meant nothing to the people who mattered, she caught the eye of an old friend. She stopped herself from flinching when she figured he was looking straight at her and not in her general direction.

Councilor Anderson, probably one of the few people who managed to be a straight politician (as impossible as that sounded) a fine soldier, and one of those VIPs that mattered to Alenko—stood as any soldier did and in fine form despite the councilor attier. He nodded at her and motioned behind him with a tilt od his head.

He wanted to talk to her after this?

She gave him a small nod, unsure whether he saw it but she knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

But that was later, at the moment, the dead called to her.

When the ceremony reached its end, when a row of concussive shots fired at the sky in unison, Rachel remembered that she was a soldier once too. That she had died her own symbolic and empty death. Thus, just like the solider she had been once; she clicked her heels together and saluted in time with every officer and soldier at the ceremony.

* * *

"Shep—"

She put up a hand, signaling him to stop. "I don't go by that name anymore, Councilor Anderson. I'm sure the brass has informed you."

"If I cared at all that much about brass then I would have had you arrested by now."

She smiled up at him then. A big enough smile that it didn't look so grotesque after the funeral of a hero they all needed. The Councilor had gotten them into one of the private lounges in a hotel, his escort stood outside the door. She had already disabled all the bugs and cameras his security had missed too. In all aspects, they were completely alone.

"I was just wondering," He unfolded his arms and put his hands on the armrests of his seat. "What a ghost was doing at the funeral of a soldier."

She shrugged. "There's no need to pretend, sir. I'm sure Admiral Hackett has informed you discreetly of some of my activity. Or at least, of the little I let him know."

He eventually nodded. "He worries about you."

"I know. Which is why I tell him anything at all." She looked away for a moment before facing Anderson again. "He feels obligated. He really shouldn't."

"He's the reason why you were ever in the Alliance, that you were given a second shot."

"He's the reason for many second shots. On both my end and his." She shook her head from side to side. "There's only so much room for disappointment, Councilor. He's the only reason why I worked for the Alliance for as long as I did: for good soldiers and leaders like him and yourself. Otherwise, the Alliance is just another playground for politics and intrigue."

He closed his eyes. "You were too young for the things they asked you to do. I don't blame you for leaving."

She wasn't sure how her smile came out then. Maybe just as distorted as she felt. "What is it that you really want, Councilor?"

Opening his eyes, he huffed. Then he laced his finger together and leaned down on his elbows. "The people upstairs are thinking of bringing you back, Shep—Rachel. The loss of Alenko has them reeling. There are people they need to take out to get back some respectable clout. Nominating you as next human Spectre even, but Hackett shot down that idea."

"And just right after they lost Alenko?" She hissed. "Typical. We're just fodder to them."

"I know you never made it to the N7 program, Rachel," he paused—testing the name again. "But if you had stayed—hell, I would have nominated you myself for the work in Akuze. And for many other reasons. Not that you aren't already over-qualified. It makes me wonder if things were different."

She had conversations like this with Hackett, over the years. Either through secure channels and once, few years ago, in person—he always ended up talking about the past. Hackett's intervention had changed her life, but in a lot of ways she was unsure of whether she should have thanked him for it or hated him. The brass had high hopes for her then, and even when she had officially been honorably discharged they had to find some way for her to stay in the Alliance.

"You're thinking: if I had been different then maybe my life would be too? Face it, Councilor, I'm as much as a shadow as you are a soldier. You can't beat it out of me. Playing a marine was always going to be a temporary thing. And you're going to want to get your ass out of the big cushy chair soon enough and give it to that bastard Udina. Sadly, he doesn't make the galaxy a better place."

"Too true." He couldn't stop himself from smiling, even if it was a small one. "Hackett wanted me to tell you—like he had a feeling you would be around— about the brass' plans. For now, he's under surveillance—they know the two of you were close. He doesn't want them to find you. But since I was made Councilor, the Alliance isn't quite home anymore so I've lost that nagging, old helicopter mom. They won't trace you through me.

"Though I won't lie— I damn well miss being a soldier. Working with fine people, like Alenko and yourself, once."

She felt obligated to say she missed being a soldier too. But it wasn't what she felt, not really. She was no more suited to the field than she was at leading, despite what Hackett and her own mentor thought. "The marines suit you, sir." She said instead.

"As it does you."

"I barely miss it. And I doubt it misses me." She nodded when he started to stand. "But thank you for the warning. Give my regards to the Admiral. The fact that you knew I was in the Citadel seems dangerous enough. Tell him he won't reach me until I reach him."

"You think they'll find you because I did? I told you, they won't trace you. What are the chances—"

"People in my line of work don't take chances." She stood as well and nodded. "Besides, there's some business I have to deal with outside of the Citadel."

He frowned at her. "Rachel, as much as I wish Cerberus would spontaneously combust, your—vigilante activity is just going to get you in more trouble. Not to mention, the Admiral is getting old. I don't think his heart can take anymore news of the damage you deal."

"I'm sure his heart can take a few more of my risks." She folded her arms in front her chest. "And besides, even when the duty to destroy Cerberus is always in my mind, there is some other debt I have to repay. Council censored news, in fact."

It took a while for all of it to finally click in the former Captain's head but when it did, his eyes narrowed. "How much did Alenko tell you?"

"I was helping him out by investigating the Reapers. So, enough for you to disapprove, I'm sure." Anderson closed his eyes, probably trying to summon his patience. Likely, he didn't expect an obedient soldier like Alenko to turn to a shadow for help rather than official channels.

Crossing her arms, she leaned back. "I didn't come up with much that he didn't already uncover in Ilos. But I did get reports that Collectors have been sending out feelers. Nothing outright aggressive. Yet. We were in the middle of checking whether it was a coincidence, before the ambush."

"And you'll continue the search? This is rather contrary to the life you've been living so far, all this getting involved with intergalactic warfare. Being good." He crossed his arms too, mimicking her with the barest of grins. She just knew he was going to tell Hackett about it. The old man was probably going to cry his eyes out.

She shrugged. "Once I get the info I need, I'll be sure to give it to someone Alenko trusted. Someone who'll continue the fight. There isn't much else I should do, considering my record."

"You keep telling yourself that, kid." He walked towards the door. "But for now, keep your head low."

"Not a peep, Councilor." She nodded at his retreating back and waited for him to close the door behind him. When she heard his retreating footsteps, she sighed and moved to look out the window.

It was still bright outside, and peaceful. The construction was still in full swing, but already the people were trying to return to normalcy: docility and stagnation. No one seemed to remember the bodies that had littered the lake or the buildings that were torn down.

She reached for her omni-tool and began typing up a few mails. There were favors she needed to call in before she closed her business down.

It was time to change her name again.

* * *

_Last updated, 02.24.2013: Fixed up lots of typos and clunky sentences. Also fixed occasional glitch in POV and dialogue / 05.2. 2013 Added some narration, fixed some pronoun confusion. Corrected spotted typos. Fixed dialogue. Restructured some awkward sentences. Lessened the length of paragraphs._


	3. Chapter 2

_Contains references that were featured in Mass Effect: Homeworlds, part 3 (A Bullet for your Sins). No need to read that to understand this but it helps. Not a novelization._

Chapter 2

Nothing was going right anymore.

In the time that he left the Normandy to pursue a Spectre career, Garrus Vakarian had thought that nothing could possibly go wrong. Sure, he had to prepare to fight the Reapers but that came with the perk of having to board the Normandy again, under Alenko's mentorship, maybe.

Instead, everything good had been crumbling around him. And the lies were so skewed that it all came out as truth.

"… _Issued an official statement regarding the attack, commending the bravery of those first responders, and assuring the public the threat has passed…"_

Garrus slammed his drink down on the bar table at the redundant piece of Galactic news, earning him some crossed and curious stares. Alenko was not a perfect commander, by all means. In battle, Alenko didn't always make the most inspiring calls. He was by-the-book, and the signs of brilliance had never actually never been his own but were based vids when he was "in the villa" (the Special Ops HQ) by past operatives, his most cited (and used) example had been tactics by the operative, Shepard, whom he thought "Retired too early."

When it came to making decisions too, sometimes the Commander yielded too easily. Perfect example was when he allowed Garrus to kill Dr. Saleon when he obviously disapproved. However, Alenko had understood the drive and motivation even if he didn't like it. Garrus knew it in the way Alenko had put his hand on his shoulder after the incident: sympathetic, sad.

But for all the Alenko's flaws, he was still a damn good man: loyal, determined, and kind. Maybe Garrus had been suspicious about whether not he really liked his alien crew but as time passed Garrus realized it had been more like he was determined not to offend them by mistake. Alenko just tried too hard when he didn't have to.

Spirits, the Commander deserved more than what was being given to him after his death. From the council, from the Alliance, from the galaxy. But Garrus was determined that even if they no longer gave a pyjack's ass then he could do it alone. He could have asked the ground team too but their messages detailed that they weren't as available.

He kept in contact with Tali who returned to the Flotilla with a handsome gift for her Pilgrimage, but she was on demand. On occasion he would send Liara a message but since the funeral, she hadn't replied to anything he sent. He and Wrex wouldn't have spoken at all if not for Alenko, but they've sent each other insults to keep the mood ("Krogan." "Turian." "Bird." "What the hell is a bird?" "I don't know, turian. But the humans find it hilarious. Must look as ugly as you." "Har har.") but even the Krogan had a mission to his people that he had to put first.

Garrus hadn't bothered with Williams, rather, he did type up messages but never sent them. They had gotten along grudgingly, as they were on the ground team the most together. Alenko's influence wasn't able to completely erase her distrust, but she had tried to be civil. They both did. It just seemed wrong to bother the girl when she was probably the most distraught, having lost the human equivalent of a mate.

But what about Garrus? All he had was a series of half-lives: C-Sec, Spectre, nothing really stuck. He thought the Normandy would be the one constant in his life but even that ship was nothing but debris in the Amada system, along with Alenko's real body.

There was his family in Palaven. However, Garrus barely spoke to his father, even if his nagging plagued him constantly. And with the two of them barely on speaking terms, he wasn't sure if he should return to Palaven to see his mother or his sister.

There was nothing but one disappointment after another. And when the Council and all of citadel space decided that even the Reapers didn't exist—there was nothing left for Garrus there.

Packing what little possessions he had: his Mantis, a few mods, clothes, and armor. He reached over his arm and activated his omni-tool to send his sister, Sol, and Tali one last message before getting on the first ship to Omega.

* * *

"You're a real-life angel."

To his translator, it came out as a Spirit of Protection but the sound of it stuck. The looks on the old couple's faces: the relief and the gratitude, as far as he could read human expressions. Garrus didn't want to think about what kind of circumstances led them to Omega, of all places. Maybe they were like him, he thought, they didn't belong anywhere. Omega was the end of the line.

However, Omega was exactly what he needed. There was no red tape stopping him from doing his job. There was no one disillusioned by the idea of safety, even if they weren't afraid of the Reapers specifically. Garrus had a place here and a mission, Omega needed him as much as he needed Omega.

The crawl to the top was slow when you were only a two-man team, but as time passed, Archangel had grown from what it was. They had expanded enough that they needed their own base of operations, and in the short few months since it all began, they were now 11 men strong, including himself, a balanced team with enough military proficiency to get some real work done and get the mercs running scared.

"Garrus."

Sidonis nudge him on the shoulder before taking a seat beside him at the bar. Afterlife was probably packed full of crime but it was the one place he couldn't touch, not without Aria's permission anyway. Even Garrus wasn't so ambitious to cross her and she had been surprisingly accommodating towards all the work he had been doing. It took a subtlety not to anger her by accident and he thought she was grudgingly impressed with his ability to do so.

"Hm?"

"The rest of the group wants to move on to the upper floors. Where there's a little more room. Want to join us?"

Garrus finished his drink and called for another one. "I'll follow you later. The barkeep here knows what I like."

Sidonis nodded. "Butler is still down here too. Drunk dancing." Garrus chuckled and Sidonis shook his head. "Just pick him up before you head on upstairs."

He waved the group off before taking his time finishing another glass. Scanning the room out of habit before he caught a good glimpse of Butler making a fool of himself. Nalah would kill them both when Garrus dropped him off later, he knew. But Garrus didn't have the heart to interrupt, he just looked so stupidly happy trying to climb on top of some of the girls and asari—literally, not maliciously. Maybe he should take some pictures on his omni-tool for Nalah.

"This isn't a place for a barefaced like you."

"And this isn't a place for a loser like you. But, here we are."

Despite the loud music, he managed to recognize the distinctive flanging voices of his own kind, speaking louder than was necessary. Turians had sharp senses and they didn't have to raise their voices as loudly as they did for other races, their sub-vocals were more than enough for them to understand each other even if it was too subtle for any race but their own. Turning his head, he spotted the commotion near the stairs to the second floor. A female turian with a hand on her slim hip, stood in front of another male flanked by a batarian and another turian.

If Garrus wasn't a bad turian to begin with, he probably would have been affected by her insult. But Garrus had long learned that that markings meant nothing—there were a lot of untrustworthy people, with or without the tattoos.

The other turian wasn't like Garrus, though. His eyes sharpened and his mandibles flared. When he lashed out, Garrus had his hand on his side arm, talon ready to pull the trigger. But the female moved faster, her own talons were sharp, piercing the other turian in the eyes so accurately that Garrus knew it was a practiced motion.

When the turian on point drew back, his sub-vocals had such a distressed sound that it made even Garrus's legs weak. The blinded turian had his hands on his eyes as blue blood poured down his face. The female wasn't moved by pity and she remained relentless. Her talons aimed again at a place where there was distinctly no plating, just under the armpit, piercing through it as easily as flesh, wrist deep. He fell down, dead.

The batarian didn't hesitate running away, just a thread short of screaming while he did it. The turian left alive struggled internally whether or not his pride was worth his death. But at the sight of the female shaking off the blood from her talons and the way her head turned to look at him, he nodded and took off running as well.

"Oh god, Garrus, he's dead. You didn't glare him to death, did you?" Garrus knew Butler's voice was louder than it needed to be, even for a human. And, because it was, the female heard it and turned to them. "Garrus, is that a female turian? They actually _exist_?"

"Butler." He back hissed warningly. His hand tightened around his hidden sidearm as the female drew closer towards them.

His drunk teammate just laughed, his face was red enough that the lights of Afterlife just made it worse. Swaying on his feet, he leaned on Garrus to keep himself standing. "What? You all look alike to me. I just thought you were like the asari, just all male-looking. And gave birth like seahorses, but—with eggs. You do hatch from eggs, right?"

Spirits, Garrus held the man upright with one hand, before getting off his stool as the female stood just a few feet away from them. Her one hand, bloodied, rested on her hip. Her mandibles flickered into what would be described as a haughty expression. The plating on her face had a light green quality to it which looked nice against the light beige color of her skin. He noticed more than ever how clean her face was without any of the colony markings and told himself not to stare too hard at the lack of them.

"Big mouth, even for a human," she said conversationally.

"Had a little too much to drink." Garrus mumbled. He searched his mind for some way to just excuse himself, tempting as it was to leave Butler to fend for himself. "Even when he hasn't had a drop it takes extreme force to keep his mouth shut."

She chuckled, her free hand reaching up to cover her mouth and mandibles. "Must be difficult."

"Comes with the job."

"Yeah! The job. Garrus here gave me a great job. Fighting the baddies. Making Omega a little brighter." Butler swayed out of his grip. Moving back and forth wildly. "Archangel. Man, that name just beats Batman—though it doesn't beat Dark Knight. Hey Garrus, maybe we should change our name from Archangel to—urgh!"

In the back of his mind, he could hear Commander Alenko's sarcastic "Smooth, Vakarian." He was only partly sorry for knocking Butler out and slinging him on his shoulder. "Humans. They don't know what they say sometimes. They just keep going and going with nonsense—"

"You're Archangel?" The way she whispered his name was almost—reverent. Her hands shot out and gripped his arms as she moved closer to study his face, to look into his eyes. Hers were green, a light sort of green which surprised him. He thought they were closer to black just a moment before.

"Well, this human has a mouth on him so you can't always listen to what he—"

"Are you? Please, don't lie."

He hesitated at first but she didn't budge or flinch from his gaze—he moved on to looking at they're surroundings. When he'd determined that there really weren't many people paying attention to them, he gave her a small nod instead of voicing out a yes. Her mandibles twitched but unlike the dead turian, her expression changed to one of joy and not aggression.

"Please, I know your work. I know this is unorthodox, but let me join you. You know what I can do. I—Omega took everything away from me. Please."

He thought about it as methodically as possible. Grimacing at what Sidonis would think if he just let this complete stranger in to the group—one who was barefaced too. Even if he wasn't sure if Sidonis cared much for that, Garrus was sure all turians held some kind of prejudice towards it. His father, especially, even if had confessed once that he tried to look past it— "Old grudges are timeless," he remembered someone saying. He also wasn't sure how letting her join now would affect the overall synergy of the group. What if she just made everything messy? Would he have to pay for that the hard way?

But the glow in her eyes didn't hide how worn her face was. She had probably lived in Omega all her life. And then suddenly, her world was taken away from her. He knew a little about that. He knew what it meant to be living a half-life, swinging from one bar to another, getting unnecessarily violent. While his world spun out of orbit, he allowed himself to lose control; there was just no one and nothing in the world that really needed him.

He pulled one arm away from her hold to steady it on the sleeping Butler on his shoulder. His other arm remained, locked with hers. He strengthened his grip on her forearm, near her elbow—the turian form of a handshake. "Welcome to the team, Miss…?"

"Just Melanis." Her talons gripped him back in the same place, her eyes alight. "I'm glad to be part of the team. Thank you. Really."

In the five months since Archangel began, they were 12 men strong. For the rest of his life, Garrus could never forget the feeling of belonging somewhere. Stronger than even his loyalty to the Normandy and to Commander Alenko, the sense of purpose made him feel that maybe now, everything could be right again.

* * *

_Last updated, 05.05.2013 Fixed spotted typos. Restructured some awkward sentences. Added sentences to clear up narration._


	4. Chapter 3

_This chapter and the Chapter 4 will contain references to Mass Effect: Redemption. Very loosely though, so no need to read that to understand but it's worth a look. Standard disclaimers apply. Also, reference to how strange it was that there was a Prothean relic in a merc base—I mean, how? Really?_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 3**

It was her mentor, Lor, who had discovered she had a knack for martial arts and subterfuge. Ironically, he had found out while she was playing with a blade he had specifically told her not to touch. He also realized that she had stolen it from his room while he was in it.

Lor was rarely impressed. Though, he had frowned at the theft of material possessions. Often he stated, "The theft of life, of Intelligence, is a far more complex undertaking. Humans focus too much on the things they can hold." He wanted her to learn the art of stealth and despite being against teaching her anything about himself and his life; he had ended up bequeathing to her the very best of him: his skills and his knowledge.

She supposed that was why, even after all the things she'd seen and done; she couldn't just leave the cloak and live a normal life.

So, despite the legalities (and the illegalities) of it, she had set up a business for her gift. Assuming a different name and gender, sometimes completely faceless—this was how Rachel was in different places at the same time. All her agents worked under her flag, and all her agents were her. She was Rachel—Rächer, the avenger, though alien clients barely cared for what the word in German meant. They only cared about the results.

She had assumed different names over the years— Alice, Kleine, Mistra, Belladonna—but a reputation could be a dangerous thing too, even a good one. But Rächer had been the longest and most expansive in terms of Intel, spanning a nearly a year's worth of toil. She had the system built and running, moving like any well-oiled 20th century machine.

When she had to bring it down, months of steady pay and contacts came to a crashing halt. If she had to die another death to live, then it could be done. She just wished her sacrifices could be paid with less violence.

Of course, she didn't lose everything. Only the very loyal of her contacts knew she was alive. For the four months since she'd been told to lay low, moving from planet to planet, shutting facilities under the banner of her business down, one by one—it was time to get back up to speed again. Only this time, a different name had to be used.

So, at the most pivotal moment of her resurrection, when she needed to be calling in favors and setting up shop, the last person she ever thought she'd end up working for was one Liara T'soni.

"Something tells me there's a long story involved with this." Rachel took a seat in front of the information broker's desk when the asari motioned towards it. "You're the last one I'd expect on this side of the fence, T'soni."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Rachel." She laced her fingers together. Her smile looked sweet but there was something cold and hard behind her eyes. Rachel was sure that glint wasn't there before. She had been fond at least through report of the Doctor's naiveté. Now, the asari was just like everyone else she knew: old and jaded. "But I hear you need to know something."

Rachel nodded. "There is a rumor flying around. I may have retreated from the forefront but even I hear things. I need to know if one thing in particular is true."

"What's true?"

"That Commander Alenko isn't dead at all."

There was the barest of flinches but it was there. Liara may have been over a century old but she was new to the business. "I'll tell you what I know after the job. You're used to trading information for chores, right?"

"Of course."

"I'll assign you a team then."

"I don't work with a team."

Liara shook her head, no. "It's a necessary precaution."

Rachel just took it in stride. "Look, I don't know what Barns told you about me. But the bottom line is this: I get things done. But, I work alone."

The former doctor's eyes narrowed. "You can't possibly think that you can hit a mercenary base alone. And what if something happens to you, or worse, the mercenaries manage to move the cargo out before anyone can help? No, you go in with a team."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Then set me up as a detachment."

T'soni's lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. "If we lose this cargo, so goddess help me—"

"I'm not that desperate for the Intel, T'soni. There are other ways for me to get it. Longer ways, but they exist. By the tone you're using on me, it sounds like you need me more than you like to admit. If you insist on being extra careful, set me up as a detachment or I walk."

It took the doctor a while to think about it and her glare was a formidable one for an asari maiden. But when she opened her omni-tool to talk to her hired thugs, Rachel just sat back with a smile.

* * *

Breaching a mercenary base, Blue Suns even, was a simple task, one she could do alone and silently. But Liara had explained to her that it was protocol that she bring a team, that there was no reason not to take every precaution. After all, the technology they were about to retrieve was something inter-galactic worthy. Something the Blue Suns were never supposed to have in the first place.

How Prothean Ruins had ever ended up with a merc group was beyond understanding. But Rachel thought there were worse things. It could have ended up with the Alliance or the Council and she knew how that always worked out.

The team entered the base noisily, artlessly. And she followed in sedately after them, setting up vantage points as look out and sniper. Not something that was particular difficult, but having to comm in so often grated her nerves. At least someone else was doling out the orders. All of them too determined to seem impressive when they actually got nothing done.

When they'd cleared the base (a time she could have cut in half by herself), the team leader, a large man who looked even larger with the way he stuck out his chest, opened the channel to the former scientist. "The ruin is secured, ma'am."

"Approach it with caution, Cedric." She answered a little choppily, the signal got worse and worse as they progressed deeper into the base. "I don't want it to be activated by accident. The extraction team will be there soon."

"Copy that, ma'am." He signaled his team to look around, staying clear of the ruin. Rachel herself looked through some of the datapads. Activating her graybox, the light came over her eyes as she took framed shots of the information. It was a modification of the original series. Something that she needed to use to keep all the delicate information she had in a single secure location. It had its limits though, storing only data and not long clips of memory, greatly reducing the possibility of brain damage in case of a virus or a really bad fall. T'soni had told her that whatever she else she found there would be hers as well so long as the ruin could be safely excavated. That suited Rachel just fine. She had a friend who would appreciate the Blue Suns's shipment schedules and location of delicate cargo.

"Fuck, Lorence, get away from there!"

Rachel snapped out of her reading, shutting the graybox and dropping the datapad. She turned to the rest of the team. Lorence, with his hand stretched out, approached the ruin as if in a trance, activating it in a flash of blue lights and the reeling sound of a powerful machine.

She remembered Christina, her curious gray eyes, and her small face. Christina thought too much sometimes, wanted to know a lot of things. She had hoped to make it into the N7 program after the job in Akuze, but she wasn't in it to be a hero. Just wanted to make sure her grandmother was well-fed and well-cared for with what money she could send her. Christina's grandmother who took care of her when her own parents, soldiers too, died in the Firth Contact War. Rachel was the only one left alive, and she had been the only one left to see to it that Christina's grandmother wouldn't want for anything—

Except for Christina. But there was nothing more Rachel could do, even money couldn't raise the dead.

She ran before thinking, pulling Lorence out of the way. As stupid as he was, he must have family somewhere who would miss him when he was gone. Rachel's conscience was clear, and the people she took care of, the families of her first team, would inherit a lot of money upon her passing.

The light took her in and she heard her own scream echoing against the walls of the base.

Then, nothing.

* * *

It was another dream. However this time, it wasn't one she recognized.

The world she witnessed was at its end. It stank of death, sounds—a language she couldn't speak or know. Screaming. A bright light that took out thousands. Fire.

She awoke with a gasp.

"Rachel?" She heard someone sigh and turned to face the only other person in the room. Liara walked up to her, wringing her hands. It looked like they were in someone's private clinic. The lights were white and the walls sterile. "Thank the goddess, you're all right. There was some fear about the graybox implant. Do you know who I am?"

"Liara—T'soni. Part of Alenko's ground team. Former doctor. Now, an information broker. A weird fit." Rachel reached for her head, her vision spun. "A little saddening."

A tender look took over the asari's face before she could stop it. But just as easily as it slipped out, she hid it again with a look of confusion. "Ah—your speech pattern was a little odd. Can you repeat after me?"

Rachel blinked. "Ah, I'm sorry. It's a habit. Go ahead."

T'soni nodded and started with long sentences that didn't make much sense to Rachel. But she repeated them flawlessly and without slurring. The former doctor opened her omni-tool to go over her vital signs as well. Nodding, she settled down on a chair by the bed when they finished all the tests. Eyes a little large, Rachel recognized fascination when she saw it.

"Do you always talk to yourself like that? It sounded almost—salarian."

"The salarian speech patterns lack the usual flair of long sounds. Keeps me focused. I do speak in longer sentences than some. And others just talk without end, contrary to salarian efficiency." Rachel shook her head, trying to get rid of the fuzziness that lingered. "What happened?"

"The ruin got activated. It did something to you so we checked your brain activity. It's the same patterns I've noted when the Commander—" She cut off her whispering and turned away. "When the Commander touched the beacon in Eden Prime, only yours was for shorter intervals and on a smaller scale."

"Alenko told me a bit about that." Rached closed her eyes. "That would explain the strange dream then."

"Yes," Liara reached for her hand, holding it too tightly. The closeness made Rachel nervous. "It's a warning from the Protheans. I could explain it to you. Or, I can also show it to you and you could make more sense of it but," She hesitated, fidgeting. "You would have to let me into your mind. And I know someone like you would have a hundred secrets no one should know."

Rachel opened her eyes. "Would explaining it to me be as efficient?"

Liara shook her head, no. "The vision is complex, with a language that doesn't exist anymore. It's a wonder that direct contact didn't make you go insane. It's understandable with the Commander, since he's a biotic. But even his headaches grew progressively worse. But you—you must have a powerful will."

"That's just a polite way of calling me stubborn."

That earned her a small laugh. However, Liara sobered quickly, a small frown marred her face. Rachel shook her head. "Listen, doctor, you're definitely right. I know a lot of things, sensitive things. I have the kind of information that gets people killed. It will seem like a treasure trove for you, a new information broker trying to gain some reputation in this world. But if you ever sell anything you learn from me and they find out who you are and how you got it—Doctor, I wouldn't want to do it but I will have to kill you before they find me. Do you understand?"

She bristled at Rachel's words. "If you're saying you can take me down—"

"I can. And I will." Rachel returned the hold on her hands with a vice grip. "I didn't say you would make it easy. You can give me what you know, but I really won't like it."

"I don't want to invade your mind if you're so unwilling."

"But the vision will always be just nonsense otherwise, right?"

"Yes. Not unless you can find another Prothean ruin or technology with enough power and information to encrypt it for you."

Rachel sighed. "Doctor, even I want to know what demons are after me or if they are demons at all." She loosened her hold when a look of pain was starting to crack through the asari's face. Rachel tried to smile as an apology, but she doubted it came out right. "But there are reasons why I live the life I do now. You can't tell anyone what you've learned from me. And if you do, I will know.

"But I trust you enough, maybe not the same way Alenko did but we've barely met. If we can settle into a comfortable truce and work together after this, if we can keep each other's secrets, I'm sure the Commander would be proud of us both."

A little of what Rachel remembered of the young asari finally showed on her face. Bright and young. She smiled a little wider before nodding. They allowed the silence to stretch long enough before they looked into each other's eyes.

"Are you ready, Rachel?"

"Whenever you are, doctor."

_Embrace eternity._

* * *

In the two months that she worked for Liara, her new organization actually consisted of real operatives rather than fictional ones. The system was built so much more extensively than before that even if the Alliance tried to search under every rock in the galaxy, they would be chasing one lead after another without end. So far, they didn't have an official name but, that could come later.

In return, Rachel introduced Liara to the few contacts she had left standing. She taught her the way to talk, how to act. What to watch out for, who was likely to betray her and who was likely to fall in line. It was an unlikely symbiotic relationship. And the longest one she'd ever had in the years that she had dedicated to being a shadow. They were almost partners and almost friends.

So, even Rachel was sad to see it end.

"What happened to Commander Alenko?"

"You've been patient." Liara sat behind her desk, hands clasped together atop it. "I was wondering when you were going to ask again."

Rachel shrugged. "You don't survive this long in the business without having a sense for trouble. Whatever you're about to tell me, I knew I wouldn't like it."

Liara gave her a sad, small smile. "You're right. You did say you wanted to know your own demons."

"Tell me then."

Liara sighed. "The Commander—he's being," Her eyes shifted. "Rebuilt." She handed her a datapad from one of her desk drawers. "The details are there but the gist of it is that he's neither dead nor alive now. As you expected, the Collectors seemed to be involved. When I was there, it seemed like they had some connection to the Reapers but there was no evidence. And—"

"Cerberus." Rachel glared up from the pad. "You gave the commander up to the dogs?"

Liara back straightened. "I—"

"You personally handed Alenko to them? You, of all people, who saw for herself what they did to Toombs? You know how much time and resources I've dedicated to stopping them. The projects I've stopped: Moses, Ra, Odysseus, Alexander. The extent of the Illusive Man's ambition is as great as it is ruthless. You actually entrusted the Commander to him?" She slammed the datapad on the table. Standing, she began to pace like a caged animal.

"Rachel, the galaxy needs the Commander. No price is too high for this."

"You're putting too much on one man's shoulders. This shouldn't be just Alenko's problem. This is wrong, T'soni. You—"

It was Liara's turn to stand, biotics flaring. "I did what I could for the Commander. Not for Cerberus. Don't tell me I was wrong because I wanted my friend back!"

"Alenko's just one man. An ordinary man pressed to do extraordinary things. You can't just thrust him into these circumstances and not expect him to just get out of it unscathed!"

"Just because you didn't?"

Rachel stopped her pacing. "What was that?"

Liara looked guilty for a fragment before she steeled herself. "You couldn't handle the pressure."

"You—"

"I didn't see it all but I saw enough. The horrible things they made you do. It would destroy anyone. So you ran and here you are. The child—no, I know you don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry." Liara's voice shook, her biotics dimming slightly. "But the Commander isn't like that. He isn't going to run. If anyone can save the galaxy, he can. I know it. And you think so too, don't you?"

Rachel forced her eyes shut, mentally shifting through the memories of the Prothean ruin in her mind to keep her old memories at bay. It was a warning about the Reapers for the next cycle. A mass extinction of all sentient life, worse than anything apocalyptic fiction could think of because it happened over and over again, without fail. But for what reason? There were no records.

Yet the galaxy thought one man could change all of this and they pinned him with all the empty symbolism, gave him all the grunt work, and for what?

One man for the galaxy. If Rachel could save this one man's soul, would the entire galaxy burn the way the Protheans did? It would. Did she care? Not enough, only barely. But was that right? No, it wasn't. She couldn't be that selfish, even if she tried.

She didn't spare Liara a look or a reply. Making her way up the stairs, she walked into the room she had been living in for the past couple of months. Unzipping the old bag she'd been using for years, she loaded everything she owned. She sheathed the blade she was sharpening the night before and strapped the holster around her hips. She left no trace that she had ever lived there, scanning the room with her omni-tool for anything she might have left, even a strand of hair.

When she walked down the stairs and towards the door, Liara was waiting for her, close to tears.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked, wringing her hands. She was the nervous young girl again, the asari who worshiped the Commander's speech and stride. Was that only a few months ago? Rachel could hardly believe it.

"I don't know."

"I'll keep all your channels open. It'll keep your enemies away."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Rachel walked beside her, close enough to the door that it slid open, waiting for her to cross. "You don't have to feel obligated. We've repaid each other enough."

"No. The things you did for me. The things you taught me. It might have taken me another hundred years to learn them all."

"That was barely anything."

"No, it was everything." Liara reached forward but stopped herself when Rachel didn't even bother to turn to look at her. She was probably crying now, Rachel thought, but she couldn't be bothered. "What will you do?"

"Preparation." Rachel closed her eyes. "If the Commander is coming back, no—when the Commander comes back—I'll be sure the stage is at least half ready for him. It's the least I could do."

"Shepard, I—"

The use of her old name stung. Especially when the asari knew that she didn't like being called by it. But T'soni was grasping at straws here, probably tried to cling to whatever sentiment Rachel felt for her name. Capitalize the weaknesses of her enemies, use their emotions against them. That's what Rachel had taught her.

Maybe the doctor didn't mean to be so malicious, only trying to hold on to their fragile friendship—maybe, she just didn't want to be alone. It was something Rachel could understand. But even that didn't move her enough to show mercy.

When Rachel stepped out, the doors slid closed immediately behind her. She didn't look back.

* * *

_Last Updated. 05.05.2013 Fixed a few kinks, corrected spotted typos, removed information that they wouldn't have known at this point of the story. General clean-up._


	5. Chapter 4

_This chapter contains references to the Omega DLC. If you don't know anything about that, there is the very beautiful YouTube. :)_

Chapter 4

She reviewed the datapad a few more times. Snapping out the most important bits into her graybox, and when she was satisfied she disposed the datapad for good. Despite Liara's minor betrayal, it paled in comparison to the direction the fight was likely to go on.

There might be a connection between the Reapers and the Collectors, after all. With their personal interest in the Commander's body, using the Shadow Broker of all people to retrieve it from Alchera—it seemed like the Collector's involvement was malicious.

This was cemented further when a contact sent her news about all the people from a colony disappearing. No signs of a fire fight or struggle: a ghost town in an instant, only in a larger and scarier scale. She didn't want to think about how that was possible. Reapers? Collectors? Both? Were they capable of doing something like that? Whoever it was would be an enemy bigger than herself, bigger than even the resurrected Alenko. In other words, it was not something she was willing to rush into. She could go to the empty colony herself, find out what hit them. But that was too much time and resources. And even if she found the culprit, could she taken them down?

No, was the answer. As much as she wanted to save as many people as she could, there was a difference between a calculated risk and a stupid one. She would have to wait, gather information, prepare. There was a time for everything and Rachel had always been patient. She would need to do what she could until Alenko came back. The first plan was to gather allies and she should stick with that. And, since she hadn't actually touched official channels in a long time, it was best to walk the dark path for starters.

When she reached Omega, entered its rotting doorframe and took a whiff of its rotting core, she felt like she was coming back home. Omega was similar to the best friend you didn't talk about or the aunt you didn't want to admit being related to. She loved Omega and she hated it too. Having spent a good year in the cesspool, she'd met and reunited with the best people and destroyed the worst she'd encountered.

Sneaking into the second floor of Afterlife, despite the heavy security, was easy enough as well. The place had too many shadows to slink into. Anto, when she passed him, looked about ready to doze off even with all the music.

She deliberately stood in front of Aria T'Loak for as long as she could, hidden behind the darkness before the asari's eyes narrowed, staring directly at her. All the guards blinked, minds processing that someone had entered their boss's sanctum, before pulling out their guns. Aria's hand was up before any of them could shoot.

"When did you arrive?" The queen of Omega looked equally pleased and angry at once. Rachel took that as an invitation to take her seat.

"Long enough that you should be ashamed." She crossed her own legs, hands on her lap.

"Hah. You're lucky I'm somewhat fond of you, Rachel. You'd be dead otherwise."

"And miss out on all the presents I give you?" She pulled out a new datapad with the Blue Sun's information saved on it. "Admit it, you'll mourn my passing."

She snatched the datapad, and scanned the contents briskly. "I will for whole minute before I ask Anto to piss on your grave. That's if I feel like it."

"That's more time than you'll give anyone else. I'd say I'm pleased but that isn't true."

Aria waved her hand and ordered a drink for her, a krogan scrambled to get it. "Hm. The Blue Suns are getting riled up. Keeping their cargo extra safe. Stupid really."

"And I thought it was weird that the Blue Suns were delivering their goods in a roundabout way. Did someone else take up my cleaning duties?"

Aria T'loak gave her one of her more feral smiles. She was one of those loyal contacts Rachel still had, but one of the few she didn't tell Liara about. She doubted anyone else was willing to trust the Queen of Omega. But Aria was a kindred soul, equally devious and calculating but more parts selfish than selfless—the year she had spent in Omega had been wave after torturous wave of trying to get along and trying to not like each other.

Smiling, Rachel had remembered all the times she had been hired by Aria herself to give her resident mercs some trouble and disappear just as fast. But the time they spent gauging each other's abilities had turned into respect and trust (warped, as it was). Aria had at one point admitted that Rachel was like a wretched bastard daughter to her, but had warned her in the same breath that if she ever fucked with Omega she would tear her into confetti. In turn, Rachel knew Aria would always put Omega first. That made her predictable. Ironically, that made her safe.

"Unofficially. And he's doing it for free."

"Vigilante?"

"Of a fashion."

"Former military or C-Sec?"

"Both."

"Ah, a turian." The krogan handed her the drink. She never really found out the name, but it was usually especially made just for Aria. In other words, it was the only drink in Afterlife that didn't taste like piss. "A huge ego for a turian. Nyreen was proud but she—"

"Let's not talk about her."

Rachel scoffed. "Aren't you too old to play the unspeakable card?"

"She's been off radar. Or rather, I hadn't bothered to keep tabs. It would be best to let it go than think about what she's doing."

"Pity. I really liked her. Maybe I'll look for her."

"Be my guest. Just don't get me involved."

Rachel nodded. So it was still a touchy subject. Then again, there wasn't a lot of Aria's old staff other than Anto and Grizz. They were probably dead, or worse. "So, the turian?"

Aria's face was blank. But she did turn to face Rachel and she met her eyes. "He's the boss. He has a whole squad."

"He must be annoying."

"No," Rachel raised an eyebrow at that while sipping from her drink. Aria's impassive expression didn't change. "Polite kid. Always asks for permission when his plan is especially detrimental. In return, I don't say a thing about it until it's over." She flashed Rachel a smile before it vanished. "You'd hate him."

"Are you telling me to see him?"

Aria actually chuckled. "If he gets too carried away, the merc bands around here will be clamoring for his blood. He isn't quite like you. His name is all over the place. He leaves a few deep cuts here and there but it heals up eventually and leaves a scar they can boast about when they finally kill him.

"But you, you leave a gaping wound they don't realize they even have before they're dead. You've rolled with the best. Your name—any of them— is just a myth. Especially since you closed shop a few months ago, starting from scratch must be a real chore."

"So, you're asking me to teach him how it's done?"

"I'm asking you to tell him to watch his turian ass because when he dies Omega will be the same old thing. Plus, I give your business a little kick start. That's what you wanted, I'm sure. Petty little info broker probably paid you pebbles for your good work."

"It's peanuts."

"And I care for human expressions."

Rachel shook her head, taking another sip from her drink. It may have tasted decent but it still burned when it went down her throat. "If I babysat for you, I'd have to make myself a temporary name. I'd use the name I have now but I really don't want to go back into hiding after this is all over. And officially, you'd tell people that I'm your agent."

"Not untrue. You've always worked for me."

"No, I've always worked for myself."

"Semantics." She took Rachel's half-empty glass, tipping the last of the contents down her own throat before the same krogan ran up toward them to get it. She shooed him away. "And what do you want in exchange?"

"Your loyalty. You've heard of the Collectors? They have some connection to a stronger force—it's the kind galactic thing you'd hate to even think about."

"Loyalty. It will be very hard to give you even that." Aria scoffed. "Sounds like a pitiful offer. Are your services worth the sacrifice?"

"It's a galactic threat. Worse, it's a threat to Omega. I'm giving you the support you need to be prepared and in exchange, you get to pick my name and I coo at your turian. Tell me that doesn't get you going."

Aria gave her a look so incredulous before she started laughing. It surprised her and the guards standing nearby. Even Anto perked up, gun at ready, asking if they had to kill someone today.

"What's so funny?"

The asari just laughed more. "Rachel, you really are that bastard daughter I should have had. You got yourself a deal." She flashed a smile. "Now," She said more to herself. "What name should you go by?"

* * *

After Sidonis had told him about how this ambush was supposed to be easy, it really wasn't playing out so well.

Garrus had to bite back the curse when the Eclipse mercs predicted that their Beta team, led by Sidonis, had set-up an ambush and they took a detour. They were being especially cautious now that two of their best men were out of the picture. Garrus had killed them just two weeks ago and if Intel was right, one was the leader's, Jaroth's, brother.

He'd feel bad about it. But then he thought of all the brothers they'd killed themselves, how much of their merchandise had led to their deaths. How much red sand have they smuggled that led people astray. No, there was no reason to feel remotely guilty. The bastards deserved everything they hit them with.

The cargo was heading to the next checkpoint where he and four other team members were waiting in one of the empty buildings. A precaution he was glad he took. He told Beta team to move. They'd flank them and take the goods, mostly stolen technology and crates of red sand.

Still, Garrus thought, he would have opted to wait a little longer for more Intel. But the opportunity looked like gold. Wary, he told the team that they had to leap at it, just so they wouldn't regret not striking.

"Krul," He said over the comm. "Are you ready?"

The salarian explosives expert made an affirmative sound through his earpiece. He was set up as a detachment on lower ground, with a better view of the buildings in the vicinity. "At your signal, boss."

Garrus looked over at the other members of his team that was with him. Butler, Melanis, Grundan, and Ripper. "Take your positions. Aim and fire at my signal. Beta team is heading up here, as well."

He heard a round of "Aye, sir" through his comm. Each one crouched down and made their way to their assigned firing positions. The team Sidonis was leading had said the ETA of the land-based cargo shuttle was about 15 minutes at the rate it was going.

"Boss—" Krul's voice crackled through the comm. "We have a situation. Cargo shuttle has disappeared from the radar."

"Is that confirmed?"

"Likely scenario: shuttle was a decoy. Your location might be compromised. I say again, location might be compromised."

"Eclipse incoming!" Ripper warned. Garrus hissed.

Krul's voice crackled through the comm. "Confirmed, boss. Shuttle was a decoy. Mechs and men are dropping near your location. They're setting up turrets hard to aim from your line of fire. Confirmed, you're compromised. Get out _now_."

"No can do. Already engaging a wave of enemies." Garrus growled. On cue, a team moved up the road and began shooting at them. He signaled his team to return fire. "Krul, activate the bomb."

"Negative, boss. They've deactivated my remote signals. Deduce that they have jammers. We'll have to activate the bomb manually, too risky." There was the sound of gunfire in the background. "I'm relocating to a more secure position."

"Loud and clear, Krul. Erash, patch me through Beta team."

The batarian tech, tucked away and far from the firefight at their HQ, responded with a lot of static. "Sigl—com—can't- rea—Beta—alre—tried—"

"That can't be good." Butler muttered, shooting blindly from cover. A decision Garrus wouldn't have approved of if there weren't so many turrets honed on him.

"One turret down." Grundan ducked down to reload. Butler moved up from cover, aiming his scope and dropping one, then two mechs. "I only have a few clips left. Grenade count zero."

"Some of us will need to fall back." Garrus surveyed the field. "We still have a superior position, but if the enemy knows we're here and it's only a matter of time till we're flanked. Ripper, aim at those turrets."

"Aye, sir." The man let out a wave of cusses before throwing a grenade. It took down two in one go.

"Beta team?" Butler asked, under cover.

"We don't know if they'll make it in time. And we didn't bring the resources to last for a long fight." Garrus activated his comm, making sure everyone in his team could hear him over the gunfire. "Melanis, Grundan. Cover the stairs behind us. We need that path cleared."

"Aye."

"Roger that."

They both moved out the door and into their positions.

This was the closest call they'd have so far. Operations usually ended quickly and in their favor. As he thought, a few units had made it inside and he heard Melanis and Grundan returning fire from beyond the door. When did the mercs suddenly get so smart?

"Boss, snipers sighted. They're setting up on the choke point for Beta teams arrival. Your two. High up." Krul's voiced cracked through.

"Erash, is the channel fixed?"

"Ca—"

"I take that as a no." Butler mumbled through the comm.

Garrus shot down a few more incoming enemies. "Can you take them down, Krul?"

"Not without exposing myself. Enemies in all sides. I'm willing to—"

"Negative, Krul. Stand by." Garrus said quickly. He aimed his sights and took enemies down, one after another. Despite the situation, he kept at his breathing and his aim. Butler whistled, impressed.

"Boss, something is happening to the sniper squad. There's only one—"

On cue, a bullet from the east took down a salarian Eclipse member. And a second, then a third in quick succession. The mercs looked up at the direction, clearly alarmed. An amateur? Hardly, with the number of headshots the person was making. The Eclipse mercs, realizing that they were now being flanked by a rogue in their own uniform, began falling back—

Right into a waiting trap as the explosives Krul had set up was activated. There were several screams, and stragglers that Garrus and his team took down before they could become a problem

"Krul, did you get those back online?"

"Negative. Probably the rogue. Can't say I don't like it. He's no longer on the roof." A pause. "Ah, Beta team shuttle incoming. Rendezvous at original LZ in ten?"

"Agreed. We'll be picky when the call isn't so close." Garrus said through the comm. He put his rifle up and took aim. "Let's finish this."

* * *

Back in the shuttle, Ripper threw off his helmet and plunked down on his seat. He had been relatively quiet throughout the operation. He was usually laughing gleefully as he took down men. "That was too fucking close, boss."

"That," Melanis remained standing with a hand on her hip. "Was a trap. Plain and simple. And we walked right into it."

"Intel had suggested it was clea—"

"Sidonis, I don't think suggestions are what we should go by when they could lead to our _deaths_."

Sidonis jumped from his seat. He was the least happy about Melanis joining a few months ago, and the girl didn't try to help him think otherwise. "Listen, you barefa—"

"Enough." Garrus voice came out strong and authoritative. His two turian teammates' mandibles tightened shut. Settling with glaring at each other, they didn't make another sound. "I approved the operation and I shouldn't have been so careless. We'll have to lay low for a while. We also have to be careful about setting up from now on."

Most of his team nodded. With Sensat , an asari at the helm of their shuttle, Garrus had instructed her to wander idly in case they were being followed. She cleared her throat. "Krul, you've been surprisingly quiet. You're usually the first to tell us what went wrong."

The salarian had his arms folded in front of his chest. His eyes were wide and moving from left and right as if reviewing pages of data. "Our tactical deficiencies were due to a lack of information. We did the best we could, despite the situation. Moreover, the fact that I didn't oversee that they would use jammers to block our comms from distant comrades—amateurish. I should blow myself up."

"But that isn't what's bothering you?" The asari spoke softly. Her nature in battle and her nature in all other situations were so far apart, it made Garrus's head spin sometimes.

"No," The salarian shook his head. "The rogue at the choke point."

"Who saved our asses!" Ripper joined in, moving near the helm to join the conversation, followed closely by Butler.

"Right. I think the rogue was the one who fixed up my bomb. But—" The salarian shivered. "That wasn't your standard issue explosive. Special tech and hard to hack. Even Erash would have taken some time on it. Was crude and effective way to disable it by jamming the remote signal but the rogue must have hacked into it, set the signal to a higher frequency remote to negate the jammers. Being able to hack into that means the rogue is familiar with STG salarian explosive schematics—"

"So, the rogue is another salarian?" Garrus asked, intrigued as well.

"That would be the simple answer if the explosive was that simple. Need high level clearance to even learn it. Even I just—took a peak at it—before retiring."

"You _stole _a bomb schematic from your government?" Butler guffawed.

"No," The salarian coughed. "I just took a look."

"Krul, you can be one badass mofo! Up top!" He raised his hand, waiting for a human high five. Krul stared at him blankly. "Oh come on! I don't want to finish it myself. _Again_." Instead, Sensat put her own hand up from the wheel and he whooped when he finished his high five. Garrus shook his head; the asari really was too nice sometimes.

"Anyway," The salarian blinked and turned to Garrus. "I was also too far away to get a definite ID. But, in a strange friendly gesture he—waved at me. I saw five fingers. Waving is a predominantly a human gesture but I have not discounted that it could have been an asari or a drell. But the bomb and the way the rogue handled the sniper rifle—boss, I admit you're probably the best I've seen outside the STG. You make it, dance, as you like to say. But the rogue's precision and speed—like a machine, calculated. It was _superb_."

"And not a coincidence." Melanis crossed her arms. "Who was he? And who sent him?"

Just then, Garrus's omni-tool pinged at the received message. He looked down and opened it, suppressing a sigh when he said, "Who else could it be?" He showed his team the message, no date stamp or salutation. Just two lines of text:

_Intel oversight is no excuse._

_Aria sends her regards._

* * *

_Last updated 05.07.2013 General clean-up. Fixed spotted typos._


	6. Chapter 5

_Letting you know that this chapter and the two after this was technically one giant chapter that I cut into three. Thank you for your support (adding me on your lists), reviews, and reading my story._

Chapter 5

Meeting with Aria always made him uneasy. His mandibles twitched and his talons were always so suspiciously close to his sidearm that he couldn't fool anyone into thinking he was friends with the boss of Omega. When he was in front of her though, he had to shake off the jitters. His voice had to come up a little more confident, even playful.

"Tell me there's a reason why you've sent me my own guardian angel."

The asari looked at him. Her legs crossed and her arms over the back of the red divan. Her face was so blank; he tried not to attempt an awkward joke just so he could actually see what she looked like when she smiled. Scary, he assumed.

"Taking risks just isn't your style, Archangel." She didn't motion for him to take a seat. He wouldn't have bothered, either. She never even invited him up the steps and Garrus was never going to sit up there. "Legacy is just there to keep you in line. Provide a little cover fire when necessary. Save you from your own folly."

"Legacy?"

She did smile this time, but it was close lipped and dark. "Yes, the bastard daughter I never had. She's human, however, so it would make that hard to believe. I'm particularly fond of her; try not to get her into anything she can't handle. Though, that would be a tall order. She's been in the business long before you, Archangel. You should take notes."

"She's human?"

"Surprised?"

Garrus couldn't stop the flinch this time. Probably another thing for Krul to ponder on, when he told him she was human. "I don't want to trust someone I don't know. Especially if she isn't part of my team." _Especially if she works for you_, came out unsaid between them.

"Oh? You can ask her to join your little band if that would make you cozy. You'll probably get a huge 'hell no.' She's a lone wolf, as the humans like to say. It makes her more efficient, focused. As you saw."

"Dangerous, more like."

"It's part of her charm." Aria tilted her head up. "If you're so suspicious, I could arrange for her to meet your team. You can provide the time and location too."

He nodded, reaching for his omni-tool. He had the perfect place in mind already. "I've sent the details to you."

"Good. It's a date." Her voice was barely a hiss and her eyes fell into a glare. "Now, get out."

* * *

Rachel knew Aria was having too much fun playing her boss (Aria liked to be called her pimp, promptly, Rachel spat on her shoes).

She was against listening to any authority other than her own. The asari knew that and sent her to fix the dumbest problems or the most dangerous with minimal information. The Omega ruler also insisted that she keep herself incognito (as incognito as she could be, Aria's agent be damned), with a half-mask to cover her nose and mouth. She'd also provided her new armor, one that was complete black and slim fitting save for the white pattern of Aria's facial marks on the back.

Once, she had gone to take care of armed vorcha that were loitering too close to Afterlife's first floor entrance, sifting through the garbage there with only hidden dagger and not even her sword. Next, she'd been armed to the teeth for a simple Intel drop-off mission Aria could have assigned to a retarded grunt.

Nonetheless, her name was more present than ever. She was the Aria's representative, her prophet (because Aria _felt_ like being dramatic). Her word was Aria's. For Rachel, nothing could be so inconvenient. Half the time she was doing dangerous work for practically free. The other half lackeys were sidling up to her for favors and— benefits of the sexual kind (an Elcor actually said, an Elcor!).

Even worse was her main job. When she had agreed to back up Archangel (of all the names, she thought, she didn't expect to hear this word so far from earth and from the Alliance) she didn't expect it to be Garrus Vakarian. Granted, she didn't think Aria knew that they had been acquainted. But apparently Rachel was never very lucky because Aria did know everything about Omega.

When the asari had set Rachel up to meet the turian and the 11 other members of his team, face-to-face, she had the biggest shit eating grin Rachel had ever seen. Aria also knew about her connection to Liara, Rachel should have connected the dots sooner.

According to her own Intel, as she no longer trusted Aria to give her anything of the kind, the owner of the café and bar: Eden Blue, was one Nalah Butler. She didn't have any proof, but she was willing to bet one of Vakarian's team was related to her somehow. She'd have read the dossiers of Archangel's team sooner but they were from Aria. She wouldn't be surprised if all they had were doodles of quads.

She had scouted ahead to find out that place was supposed to be closed for the day. So, they were afraid she'd slip in while the place was open? They probably already knew she was going to try to get in while it was closed. Sighing, she crossed her arms and looked at the establishment with assessing eyes.

This was obviously some test, some way for them to determine exactly how good she was. But she really didn't want to play any games and she really didn't want to give them any more information on her abilities than she needed to. Plus, she'd saved their hides just a few weeks ago. They should be embarrassed.

Luckily, it seemed that someone had come in later than he was supposed to. He was burly and tall, his face was thick with a beard. Pulling out a key to open the double entrance doors, he was humming a tune under his breath.

She adjusted her black gloves first and pulled the cloth of her mask up, activating her tactical cloak with a small smile.

* * *

"Sorry." Grundan entered through the front door, turning back quickly to lock it.

"Rare for you to be late, kid." Mieren, a former officer from C-Sec said over her cup of coffee. "What kept you?"

"Couldn't find the key," was Grundan's mumbled response. "Is Weaver back yet? He's always coming in the nick of time too."

Mieren shook her head. "No, probably won't be back for a couple of weeks from Tiptree."

"I'm sorry, I'm late."

"It's all right. She isn't due for another hour. We're here for a meeting." Garrus strode in with Sidonis from the backroom. His team moved from their places to convene at a large table that Nalah had set-up for them. She was now in the kitchen, convinced that she had to make them dinner as well.

Sidonis cleared his throat. "We just want to set some ground rules."

"Ground rules? We're not five year olds, boss." Vortash chimed in, scratching his bald head. He had been a mercenary of a minor group before he joined. They were rivals with Blue Suns and in a bloody battle, most of his team died. They disbanded immediately after the incident. A real pity, Vortash was a sentinel a class of his own.

"Oh, I trust you, Vortash. It's them," Garrus motioned at the right side of the table where Ripper, Butler, Melanis, and Monteague were standing. "They need to be warned."

"Hey!" Butler crossed his arms. "Monty is well-behaved."

"Yeah, and then you rile him up like you did when you were both mercs. Tell me again about bar fight that ended with both of you getting kicked out?" Garrus shook his head at Butler's glare. His partner, Monteague, just smiled, patting his best friend's back evenly.

Melanis didn't look bothered by being called out. "So, we have some character flaws—" She ignored the way Garrus said "Understatement" under his breath. "Doesn't mean we're gonna jump this—what was her name?"

"Legacy."

"Is this another Patriarch pun we're not getting?" The female turian replied.

"Something about being the bastard daughter she never had."

"Woah, what are screwed up signs of affection?" Butler said under his breath, although everyone heard it and a few had to stop themselves from laughing. "She should have just named her Junior and let her walk around in the skin tight bondage suit too."

Garrus chuckled but Sidonis looked up at the ceiling, trying to summon the Spirit of Patience. "This is exactly why you needed the warning. Legacy is Aria's hand. If she dislikes us, I have no idea how I'm going to scrape you off the tiles in Afterlife."

Butler's face fell in mock anguish, turning to Garrus. "I get why Sidonis won't do it. But you're not going to save me, boss?"

Garrus scoffed. "I'd probably help her run you over."

"Well, now I know where your loyalties are, boss. I'm so glad I joined."

Sidonis sighed. "Can't we have a meeting where something productive happens for the first half hour?"

"Isn't that why you always call us half an hour early? So we can talk about nothing for the first fifty minutes?"

Before Sidonis could start another shouting match with Butler, Garrus put a hand on the other turian's shoulder and stepped in. "Let's get to business. I don't have any intentions of groveling. But I want to learn as much as we can about this Legacy. Try to be as— subtle as you can be."

"Which is why we're in total lockdown?" Melanis gestured around her.

"It's not heavily fortified but it will hard not to notice her enter. If she's as smart as she seemed, she'll know she has to get in without anyone noticing." Garrus nodded. "From her skillset, she seems to be an infiltrator. We know that she's a good shot but what else can she do? Now is a good time to find out."

Krul blinked a few times. "Wouldn't it be better to ask?" Everyone turned to him, a mix of shock and awe in all their faces. "What?"

"You think she's going to just tell us? Legacy, Aria's prophet—huh, have to say that is a tad too dramatic even for Aria."

"Butler," Sidonis warned. "Be serious."

The man sighed. "Aye, aye. Shutting up."

Krul cleared his throat. "Since we're going to meet her face-to-face, we should be honest. She has little reason to not answer our questions."

"Yes, because female infiltrators are made for honesty." Melanis said bitingly. "No offence, Krul. But the woman has a skillset of an assassin. It's a little troubling that Aria would assign her to us for protection. More like, the moment we step out of line she'll move her scope and drop us."

"Right. So, back to the topic of ground rules…"

They finished faster now that Butler had stopped interrupting with twenty minutes to spare before Legacy was due to arrive. Before the clock rolled in to the meeting time, Garrus had to stand from his seat and pace a bit. He didn't expect it but he felt anxious with how quiet his team had gotten. And, maybe a little excited too—he really wanted to see what this Legacy could do that she managed to impress someone like Aria, who actually agreed to a near-second-in-command. The asari had lackeys, not partners.

Thirty eight minutes past the time she was supposed to arrive left the team bored. Butler, Melanis, Sensat, and Ripper were already playing Skyllian Five in one corner. Sidonis was pacing around the bar, muttering to himself, looking as agitated as Garrus felt.

"Dinner!" The kitchen door slid open. A petite woman with blonde hair and brown eyes walked up the empty table. On the tray she was holding were two large containers of stew with bowls and utensils. "There's more in the kitchen so help yourselves." She set the tray on the table. "The one on the right is levo and the other dextro. I know you guys must be hungry after that long talk with Legacy."

Butler got off his seat and moved near his wife. "Honey, you're the best." He kissed the top of her head and she sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "But, we haven't met Legacy yet. You were supposed to serve dinner after that."

"What?" She blinked up at him. "But she—"

Garrus jumped out of his chair. Melanis dropped her cards and they scattered under the table. Butler paled, grabbing his wife's arms. Sidonis, Ripper, Vortash, and Grundan ran into the kitchen, guns in their hands.

"Where is she? Did she hurt you?"

Nalah eyes were wide but otherwise, she didn't look afraid or harmed. "No, she came by the kitchen. Gave me a little scare though because I didn't know she was there but she apologized and said she'd like some water because you're meeting was over. I also offered her some stew but she said she couldn't keep Aria waiting. She left about 10 minutes ago."

"The kitchen is clear. We scanned for tech too since it was likely she was under tactical cloak." Ripper walked back in, running his hand through his hair. "Fuck, how did she get in?"

Just then, Melanis's omni-tool made a shrill noise that reached Garrus's ears like a bullet. She shrieked and tried to pry it off her arm before Sensat reached over and stopped it. "It's a message tone."

"I wouldn't change it to that!"

Sensat shrugged and opened up the message. Pressing her lips into a thin line before she looked up at Garrus, her voice came out shakily. "Boss, you may want to read this."

Garrus strode over to the two women. Melanis stood up so he could look at the message easily. Same format without the date stamp or salutation.

_Points for improving your omni-tool firewalls, Archangel. Sadly, your upgrades didn't extend to the rest of your team._

_But for everything else, you could have asked. Tell Aria when you're willing to talk like grown-ups._

Butler and Krul had been looking over his shoulder to peer at the message as well. Garrus could guess that the salarian had an "I told you so" in his mind but Melanis just looked ready to murder anything that spoke within her vicinity.

So, Krul backed up a few steps before muttering it. Melanis still heard it and snarled.

Erash, silent the entire time, huffed. "She's good. We shouldn't have done that."

"Too late for regrets now." Mieren rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Your call, boss."

Garrus nodded back. He told himself he should be angry. His pride should be have shattered into little pieces. His father's voice, telling him he had been careless and reckless, should have been playing over and over in head in an endless, irritating loop.

Instead, his hands shook so badly that the tremors were visible till the very tip of his talons. Under his breath, he chuckled and tried to hide his grin from an irate Sidonis.

* * *

_Last updated, 05.07.2013 General clean-up. Cleared up some narration/dialogue. Damned separator fix._


	7. Chapter 6

_Hope this chapter finds you all well. I enjoyed writing this immensely._

Chapter 6

Aria sent her a message saying Archangel wanted to meet up again and so soon after she had just gotten back to her apartment from the Eden Blue. Legacy summoned her patience to read the rest of the message.

She didn't regret it like she thought though. Laughing loudly as she scanned the message over and over again. He wanted to meet up, but this time without the team and she could pick the place and time.

She knew a challenge when she saw it. He wanted to return the favor and Rachel always appreciated due payment.

In the back of her mind, a voice that told her she shouldn't be enjoying this so much. She did dread, to an extent, meeting another member of Alenko's ground team. Would she have to tell him what Liara had told her about the Commander and Cerberus? So far, she doubted Liara had told them anything either. Otherwise, Garrus wouldn't be playing vigilante, he would be in the next ship to Ilium asking Liara what the hell was going on. But maybe, she didn't want to give them any false hope. Rachel didn't have to feel like she came to Omega as the asari's messenger—it wasn't part of the debt she had to pay to the commander and it would in no way aid herself or the mission.

But now she was giving in to lesser needs. She decided to just bask in the excitement of meeting a foe who was either her equal or her lower (or maybe slimly her better) with a gun. But what else could he do? She'd seen the way he took out the mercs and mechs, quick and with a certain flair—definitely more personal than the way she took her enemies down with a bullet. The dossiers from when he was in the Normandy just didn't do him justice or he had gotten many times better since Saren. What else could he do? How could she find out?

They would still have their grown-up conversation but after playing for a bit.

"All right, Vakarian." She typed up her reply and sent it quickly. "Now, you're talking."

She took her gloves off first, scanning the large scars in her hands. When she noted they were a dull, brown color she made her way to the bathroom she took a quick shower, skipped dinner, and fell on her bed. Her thoughts were full of plans and places, setting up mentally where she would ask Vakarian to meet her.

That night, for the first time since Alenko's death, she had a dreamless sleep.

"Are you sure we shouldn't go with you, boss?" Melanis asked for the seventh time that morning. Garrus was grabbing what he thought he needed: extra thermal clips of concussive bullets, his trusty Mantis, an M-3 Predator, and an old knife Sol had given him before he left Palaven to join C-Sec. "You look like you're getting ready to go into the battlefield."

"Oh, I plan to." Was his enigmatic reply as he loaded his rifle and cocked it before switching it to safety. "And I'm going to have fun doing it."

Melanis approached behind him, hands on her sides but her eyes were wide. "I really don't think you should go alone."

Garrus sighed. "No way would she have agreed to this if she thought I was bringing any of you. And, I might offend her again if I broke my word."

Melanis crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Since when did you care about what some human lackey thought of you?"

He shrugged, not replying. It wasn't like he _did_ care about what Legacy thought of him. But he hadn't done anything impressive so far. And Legacy had all but proven herself to be many parts intelligent and skilled. It wasn't like him to remain under her boot heels for much longer.

Okay, so maybe her assessment of his abilities had some weight. But even if he didn't know anything about her character, he could respect skill when he saw it. She was likely able to assess whether or not he was her lesser or her better.

When he was almost done packing, Melanis still nattering off about how some of them should be in a close location on standby, Krul came into the room with three extra medi-gels. He plopped them down on the desk near Garrus's pack. Garrus looked at his salarian teammate. "If she knows a lot about explosives like I think, you'll need to load these into your armor at some point. Oh and," He pulled out a thin metal rod about the size of a human finger. "A precaution. Should sabotage the smaller explosives she might have set up. Also, if she gets close enough, it will disable her tactical cloak— if she doesn't incapacitate you before then."

"Krul, don't encourage him! I really think—"

"Thanks, Krul. Melanis," The salarian nodded and excused himself. Nodding, Garrus turned to the female turian, standing confidently in hopes that it would inspire some trust. "I'll see you and the team later tonight. Eden Blue. If I'm still alive, anyway."

She narrowed her eyes. "Not funny."

He chuckled. "I'll see you, Mel." He took the extra packs of medi-gel and the tiny piece of tech the salarian had made. It was midday, according to Galactic Standard hours, when he left. It was a 150 minutes before he needed to meet Legacy but he was eager to cut her preparations short.

* * *

Rachel knew the turian had activated the trip-laser she set up by the entrance of the building on purpose. He was cocky enough to think she needed him to press the doorbell so she wouldn't be caught unaware.

She arrived earlier than she intended, sure that he was going to try to cut her preparations short. The building she had set their appointment in was set for demolition, having run out of money while it was in progress, it have about 20 floors and had the whole skeleton. However, there were barely any doors, a lot of open space, and only pillars for cover so she provided some extra cargo boxes (some randomly packed with surprises!). The only way up or down was through the stairs unless she wanted to be creative.

The surrounding buildings with enough height conditions to be wary of were at least two kilcks away, but not impossible to aim from. But Omega atmo, consisting of mostly air and light pollution, made it a bitch to aim from that far—and that would be without having to determine the wind speed. The rest of the surrounding skyscrapers were much shorter in height so all she had to do was climb up to avoid them. However, Vakarian wouldn't snipe today. They were done testing each other's ability to scope and drop them. Surely, they both had other talents?

Currently, she was setting up on the 14th floor and was going to climb up to the 18th. That's where she planned to skin Vakarian's hide.

"Turians are similar to the Legion. In fact, they're military forces are made up of legions." Her mentor's voice resounded in her head, his tall and gangly figure as clear to her as it was when she was a child. In a military fashion, his hands were clasped behind his back and his large dark eyes bored into her. "They're worthy opponents. A good turian knows the value of working as a unit, as a tank of force."

Rachel sighed, switched the safety of her gun off and cocked it. Reaching down for her gloves on one of the crates she set up, she looked at the large scar on each of her hands and noticed how they flared red. She grinned before slipping them on and securing them.

She heard the second trip laser she set on the fifth floor staircase go off. He was moving faster and with less noise than she anticipated. Sabotaging her traps, maybe? She hadn't been aware that he knew how to do that. "What about a bad turian, Lor? What do I do with those?"

In her mind's eye, her mentor blinked at her as if he recognized that she had asked something. He was always discreetly pleased when she asked him questions. When he was eager to answer, he would begin to pace, like he did now. He nodded, "True, _Anue_." She closed her eyes at the name. In the old language, Lor's old language, it meant daughter or dear child. "We should always think of exceptions. But we're a stealth cell, we always preform with at least 30 percent improvisation.

"Just remember that what we lack in defense we make up with speed. A cell isn't a tank but it's adaptable, flexible. If a turian believes he doesn't need his unit to survive, we make him remember why legions exist.

"It will go down to hand-to-hand. That's where your advantage is greater. Recite to me a turian's biological weak points, _Anue_."

Smiling, she walked up the staircase, activating the trip-lasers there too before climbing up. She locked one of the few doors in the entire building on the 16th floor where the main staircase cut off. He would have to walk through the floor to reach the second set so she placed an especially painful trap in the lock that would trigger even after he hacked into it. She opened her omni-tool to activate the turrets she pilfered from an Eclipse base a few days ago. And again in the 17th, including the few hidden cameras there that would send his combative data to her omni-tool for her to review later.

When she reached the 18th floor, she activated the generators that sat on the perimeter, creating shields that would at least hold through one powerful missile launch from a gunship. She'd hate to be interrupted by Aria's or Archangel's enemies in the middle of a date. Moreover, the wind would ruin the effect of the smoke screens she planned to use.

"_Anue_?"

"Sorry, _Abruel_." That meant father, she had only called him that once when he was still around to call at all. She sat down on one of the crates she'd set up, leaning forward on her elbows. "What were you saying?"

"Weaknesses."

"Ah. From the bottom up: main arteries between the spurs and the legs, weaker set of plates at the pelvis that give them mobility, under their arms where there is no plating at all, their throat but avoid hitting the cowl, and eyes are small but vulnerable."

"What are your weaknesses, _Anue_?"

Lor always asked that before they began a job together. It was his own way to give her a military pep talk, but she found it far more comforting, far more endearing than the ones he might have recited to a larger team. There was only ever one answer.

She heard the sound of the turrets go off in the 16th floor. He would be here very soon. Standing, she switched the cameras in the 18th floor on as well. She paced around the room again, noting by muscle the shape and curve of the place, keeping her body warm before the battle.

"The men of the Legion are one. Together, we have no weaknesses."

* * *

By the time he managed to survive all 17 floors, Garrus already made a fairly accurate assessment of her abilities.

Her intelligence was never in question. She made creative use of the terrain. Despite the device Krul had given him and his own visor, he had set off one explosion after another. Some of the trip-lasers were in places no one in their right mind would put for fear of demolishing the building. But they were small scale explosions, just enough to make noise and bring his shield down every damn time.

Though he took extra pains to wait and stay low until the generators in his suit patched them up, some blasted turret would find him there and shoot at him. When he checked whether he could scale the walls on the ninth floor, he found very visible and very potent mines. Even if he managed to evade them all, one mistake meant he would be falling very hard and very fast. It would be an embarrassing end, really. What was perplexing was how the girl had moved to get them all in place. He also took to avoiding what crates she'd put up as cover. He learned his lesson when he took cover behind one. Turrets immediately aimed and triggered the explosives within it. He had his finger jamming on the medi-gel dispensers before the explosion could blow his right arm off.

Her tech expertise was high, but not Tali high. He should be glad for small mercies. But he was still floored by the Neural Shock trap at the door in the 16th that his visor didn't pick up (he'd have to fix that, there were a lot of things she did that weren't picking up). When he collapsed in a fit of embarrassing screams, the pain may have lasted longer had he not disabled it through his omni-tool. He had turian military training to thank for that one and the sound of his father telling him to get up and move.

Everything else came as a lesser surprise. The mechs were just for warm-up, to which he shot down to the music of "Bang Bang Boom" and the turrets were standard. Save the few on the 17th floor that she had applied stealth tech to, he would have missed them if not for the distorted image when he was about to move forward (and again, his visor jogged. She was helping him out, really). He rolled behind the pillar just in time for it to start spitting bullets at him.

Spirits, she was good. But, it was nothing he couldn't handle. Making short time, he cleaned up the 17th floor till there was nothing but the splintered carcasses of turrets.

He didn't rush up to the 18th floor. Somehow, he knew she was going to be up there and he had to be prepared. How would she try to attack him? Likely, bring down his shields through explosives and gunfire. Since they weren't trying to kill each other (he hoped, but after 17 floors of dangerous tech, he was having second thoughts) she would likely engage him in close quarters. Not a good option for her, especially since Garrus was who he was. But she wouldn't see that as a mistake until they were engaged in combat.

He let the medi-gel swim through his system, he only had one left. Since the coupled explosions with gunfire in succession really tore through shields and he was still reeling through the Neural Shock a floor down.

He simulated all other likely scenarios. What she would use to go at him, if she would be as ruthless as she was so far. If she would attack him immediately or wait till he let his guard down a fraction. What bullets would she use and what gun. Would she have a close quarters weapon or would it just be hand-to-hand.

Admittedly, he had never been so excited to be in fight since his time in the Normandy. It wasn't like he was some over-eager krogan, ready to head butt and stomp the next pyjak that turned to look his way. Omega gave Garrus a sense of purpose, a reason to fight. But the thrill of besting his supposed betters, surpassing his current limits: there was very little to compare it to.

There was nothing but military complexity that got a turian going the way it did. His heart was racing and his feet felt light, his body weightless. Gun at ready, he made his way up to the 18th floor and the door slid open easily.

Krul's device did short work of the mine he stepped on. He looked down with a smirk. It was mean of Legacy to set something up like that, especially if it was full of shrapnel like any standard issue mine. But from what he could tell it was supposed to release a smoke screen, so that meant Legacy wasn't trying to kill him. Just mortally wound him so he would needed all the senses of an apex predator to compensate.

It was perfect.

Not without her fail safes, he heard more standard smokescreen grenades drop, clanging against the floor as a steady cloud of smoke got him to cover his mouth instinctively. Normally, a place high up like this with strong wind would have gotten rid of the smoke, but he looked to his right to see the floor's perimeter shimmer blue and he noticed the generators. Spirits, she had the place walled in.

Not knowing about Krul's device, when she had gotten close enough her tactical cloak disabled and she appeared, sword in both hands with the blunted end first, and she swiped at him, aiming for a soft portion of plates near his hips. Rolling quickly, he brought out his pistol and aimed for her shoulder.

The rest of her face was covered by a black mask but her eyes widened when she noted her cloak was gone. His visor picked up her quickened heart rate. Hand on his gun; he pulled the trigger quickly, timed precisely with his breathing. She reeled back at the impact of two concussive bullets that brought down her shields. He pulled his trigger again and again, aiming by his visor's calculations but she was quick on her feet and she flipped back several times. Far enough, she reactivated her cloak and disappeared. Now that she knew her cloak had a weakness, she dropped more smokescreen grenades to make up for his superior eyesight and his visor.

He stopped himself from grinning and went back to business. Looking again to his right where the nearest generators were, he reloaded his gun and took aim. He would have to destroy a least two on opposite ends of the room for optimal results but one large gaping hole on the shields was sufficient. He managed to destroy one before Legacy got wise and attacked him again, this time from above.

She used something blunt and heavy, and it took down his shields (damn, concrete. Where the hell did she pick that up from?). He was sure she aimed for his eyes rather than just his head. A hit there would have had his brain rattling against the frame of his skull and he would have blanked out. If she got him in just the eyes without the shields—he didn't want to think about the damage.

She threw a small knife at him and he stepped forward and to the side, close enough for her to crouch down and hook an ankle between his leg and his spur. He yelled in pain, losing the grip on his pistol and it dropped to the floor with two clacks. His weight collapsed from under him and he fell backwards— he heard a loud snap and felt the flare of heat before the pain on his leg traveled up. A howl escaped his mouth and he resisted the urge to reach for his leg in pain.

She had a thorough knowledge of his biology. He was reminded of Melanis, their first meeting. The practiced motion when she aimed for the most vulnerable place in a turian's natural armor. But this wasn't just practiced, it was perfected. When Legacy sprung up, he sat up as quickly as he could even when his leg throbbed and the pain multiplied tenfold. Barely thinking, he raised his right hand, talons out and struck her, aiming near her pelvis where her armor was thinnest.

Legacy moved fast enough to avoid the blow, a graceful spin that almost took his breath away. But he had little time to appreciate the art of it and used this distraction to leap up, his leg crying in pain and likely broken, to bring her down to the floor, her skull cracked down hard against it and she let out a loud gasp.

On top of her now, he raised his hand again, more aware that he should close it into fist to avoid piercing through her face with his talons.

But he felt, more than saw, as the smoke was thinning around them—she was still armed and the tip of her sword had slid uncomfortably close between the joints of his armor and the tough plating near his hips. It would take him longer to pierce her throat than it was for her to drive her sword through his guts.

She'd probably kill him before he could, but if she wasn't stubborn enough, she'd probably follow soon after.

Garrus's thought was cut short, however, as he saw red liquid flowing out from under her head and how narrowed her eyes were as she looked at him. Fighting to keep them open, he noticed they were such a dark intense green. He'd only once seen such eyes once and coupled with the fact that she was holding a sword—

Instead of piercing her throat with his talons, he pulled down the mask to reveal the rest of her face. Garrus let out a sigh of relief and a chuckle when she was smiling at him. The sword near his hip, clinked against his armor, reminding him that if she decided to slip the sword in there it would kill him.

"Spirits, Rachel. I almost killed you."

Rachel, not quite a friend and not quite an enemy, chuckled. "I would have given you the point for this fight if you didn't hesitate, Vakarian. Now you gave me a head start."

* * *

_Last updated 05.07.2013 General clean-up. Spelling. Typos. Made some transitions smoother. Fixed separators. Cleared some narration. _


	8. Chapter 7

_A promise is a promise. Not much action but enjoy. :)_

Chapter 7

Rachel pulled out the medi-gels and the first aid provisions from inside a crate. She knew the fight could get messy and even if it didn't it was always best to be prepared. She threw the turian his own kit and proceeded to tend to the wound on her head, applying the medi-gel and sighing in relief as she felt the throbbing from the pain ease.

It would probably need stitches. But it was good that it was bleeding instead of leading to a concussion. She could deal with that later. Applying the temporary tape that would keep the wound closed, and another round of medi-gel to be on the safe side, the wrap kept slipping as she tried to get it around her head. The hair was getting in the way—she would need to cut a whole lot of it off. Aria would have a field day with that.

When she turned back to look at Vakarian's progress, she noticed he barely moved. He had been glaring at her the whole, if the way his eyes didn't flicker was any indication and had yet to fix himself up. Likely, he was studying the white marks on her new armor in the same pattern as Aria's black facial markings, understanding the significance of it, and getting the wrong idea. Which didn't take much, but he had no reason to think otherwise. He was sitting on one of the crates, his talons tightening and untightening as he held on to the medi-gel she threw at him.

"Did Alenko know you were working for Aria?"

"I only work for myself, Vakarian."

"Not what this looks like." He motioned at her armor and paused. "I think I remember telling you to call me Garrus."

"You did." She shrugged. "I've decided to ignore the request."

"Charming."

"You know it."

Shaking her head, she pushed a smaller crate near him, crouching down to study how best to put his leg there. She looked at him first before he nodded. Together, they eased the leg on the shorter crate. She held out her hand and he passed her the medi-gel, wordlessly. "It's broken in at least two places. One break is clean though—"

"Yours, obviously."

She laughed in spite of the morbidity. "Yeah. But with pressure you applied to it after it must have shattered it in another place. It will be a pain for a while. No, vigilante fun for you."

"Thanks for that."

"Hey, you cracked my skull open."

He smirked, as much as a turian could smirk anyway. "It was self-defense."

She rolled her eyes, applying the medi-gel. It was probably more painful than it looked because he let out a long sigh and his shoulders slumped considerably. "You'll have to have it checked professionally though. The medi-gel can't completely handle this kind of internal damage. You want me to splint it?"

He had the mind to look sheepish. "If you can that would be, uh, nice."

Resisting the urge to not to do it out of spite, she reached over for the kit and began her first aid. Above her, Garrus cleared his throat. "So you weren't working for Aria before recently?"

She nodded. "It's a mutually beneficial agreement. Although, it doesn't look that way now with the way she's slave driving." She reached for the bandages and began to wrap it around the leg and splint.

He managed to chuckle a little. Peering curiously over her work, he blinked several times at her when she stood up, finished. "Well, I was expecting it to be bad. Should I be worried that you know so much about my biology?"

She shrugged, turning away and walking to sit down on one of the crates in front of him. "What can I say?" She smirked, crossing her arms. "I have a thing for aliens."

"You mean you have a thing for me?" He had to cheek to look serious about that.

"Yeah. I have a thing where I just want to take my sword and just," She pantomimed the motions on herself, smirk still in place. "Slit it right across your throat."

"Am I that irresistible?"

"Of course. Archangel is a pretty shiny trophy here in Omega."

He scoffed. "Liar. You don't care about trophies."

She laughed at that. "Have me pegged already, Vakarian?"

"Garrus." He corrected sternly before he shrugged. " And maybe a little." He went back to being meek again. Rachel had to notice, Aria must have been endeared by his awkwardness— it had been awfully similar to how Nyreen had been in the earlier days. Aria probably wouldn't admit to that though. However he sobered, his small smile vanished. "But I still want to know what you're doing here and why you decided it was your job to be Archangel's protector."

"The circumstances asked and I delivered." His eyes narrowed again. She sighed, leaning back on her hands, legs crossed and dangling over the crate.

"Listen, Vakarian, there are things I just can't tell you. You'll have to take my word for it. I don't plan on shooting your head off in the middle of a firefight or maiming any of your team. If you're still uncomfortable with that, I can help you in other ways where I won't have a gun in my hand and I won't be standing behind you."

He seemed to consider this for a moment before he looked at her again. His blue eyes were vivid, even with the space between them. "So, what can you tell me?"

She sighed. "Vakarian, I'm only motivated by two things. First," She put up her right index finger for his reference. "Whatever connections I make are dedicated to finding my mentor, Lor, who vanished during his personal mission. Normally we would go on missions together but—" She closed her eyes for a moment, remembered his retreating back. Banishing the vision, she opened her eyes again. "It wasn't my place to join him."

"Is he dead?"

"Highly likely." He winced at her impersonal and straight tone. "But I knew that I wouldn't see him again, anyway. But I want to know what happened to him and if there is anyone I have to pay favors to, if they helped him or if he took his life. Second," She put up her thumb. "I want to see Cerberus burn, you can't know all reasons why, not now. But their total destruction will be the one shining light I see when I'm at death's door.

"If I can accomplish one of these two things in my lifetime, then I will be glad to leave the galaxy behind. Anything hindering me from accomplishing these two things must be eliminated as well." She put her hand down, her face softening. "Before Commander Alenko died," Garrus closed his eyes but she continued. "He had me investigate Reaper activity. We didn't get very far but the Collectors came up."

"They're real?"

"It seems. I was searching if they were connected—then he died and just recently that human colony got hit, not a soul left but no signs of struggle."

"So, you're barely sure if it will lead to anything? That doesn't sound very wise."

"I don't have anything definite, true. Just a lot of coincidences but the Reapers are definitely a threat to my goals. And I can't have that. So anything I can do to get rid of them or their allies needs to be done That's why I'm here. Omega is a criminal hub and if the nightmares about Collectors are accurate then this is the place to find out."

For a long while, they just faced each other. Blue eyes met green. It was night according to Galatic Standard, but in Omega night was the only time of day.

When Garrus nodded, asking her instead about arranging some way for her to gather Intel for Archangel so the lives of his teammates wouldn't be put in jeopardy again, she leaned back again on her hands, relieved. She wouldn't have known what to do if he pried further, and if she was forced to tell him she may have to kill him one day. The less he knew, the safer he would be.

* * *

It was past closing time when they both strode towards the Eden Blue, Archangel's team was waiting with a physician as Garrus had instructed. Garrus, using Rachel as a crutch moved from her to lean on the doorway when she stepped away from him.

"There's a doctor in the shop. You could have your head checked out too."

She shook her head. "And face 10 angry men? No, thanks." She put her mask up again, looking smaller now that she had a bandage wrapped up around her head as well. "I've sent you my extranet address. When you want something done, just ring me."

"Yeah."

"I would recommend nothing strenuous for a while though, for both our sakes."

He smirked. Did she think he could resist replying to that? "What? Can't handle a little exercise, Legacy?"

"No," She replied, deadpanned. "I just don't want my brain to fall out of my head in the middle of a stealth crouch."

He laughed, wincing when he applied a little pressure to his leg. "Just be sure to have that checked before you sleep."

"Aye, mom."

"Wouldn't that be Aria?"

She groaned. "Do _not_ remind me."

When he laughed and her eyes glittered with humor, she stepped back a few times before turning complete around. He watched her walk some distance, towards the space car they had used to get there.

How was see supposed to explain his injury to the rest of his team without sounding less macho? It probably didn't matter, for a turian to get a leg broken was a rare thing. The rest of his team probably won't get it but Melanis and Sidonis would. The enemy he faced was ruthless and knew exactly where to strike, that he was able to give as good as he got won't lose him much respect. He'd gain a whole lot of teasing, he was sure. Not looking forward to that.

Waiting for the sound of the space car's engine and thrusters, he stood by the entrance to Eden Blue before unlocking it. When the streets became silent he pushed his way inside and locked the door behind him.

* * *

_Leave me something to make me happy?_


	9. Chapter 8

_Early chapter. I have busier weekends than weekdays. It's the most ironic thing. Thanks for reading and reviewing! As well as adding me and/or my story to your lists. Much love._

Chapter 8

Intel was smooth and near seamless with Legacy to confirm and re-confirm everything Sidonis found out. It didn't take any of them long to recover from their injuries and within a week they both were on the field again, kicking ass, and taking names. They didn't actually see each other. She mostly left the coordinates of her Intel and left it for one of Archangel's to pick up. Anything else was through proper comm channels with Erash's best firewalls. He never talked to her alone either, save for the impersonal mails he sent her about work.

But she checked in regularly, in a surprising show of camaraderie, she would update him on her status or send him a short one liner about how Aria was being a bitch or how she was going to sleep and not to bother her until a certain time. He didn't really understand the motivation behind these messages, and he never replied with anything of his own for the first few days. But she sent him the one line about how an asari stripper proposed to her and promised to change occupation for it. He burst out laughing in the middle of a late night meeting and replied with, "As if you're the settling down type."

His team was half and half about where he was getting his information, and how often he looked at his omni-tool to read her messages (they only came at the start of the day and at the end, but Garrus found himself looking at old messages anyway). Though Sidonis was surprisingly all for the half-friendship, anything that made their lives easier—he supposed Sidonis saw it as practical that they had a friend from T'loak's side, one that people were really considering as the asari's extension, and sometime daughter (though Rachel _hated_ that).

The problem with the liaison of Archangel and Legacy didn't lie so much with the team but with Legacy herself.

Some two weeks since his broken leg, and seven months since Archangel had begun operations, less than half the team was gathered: Melanis, Krul, Butler, Sensat, and himself. Erash was by the computers, keeping the channels clear and listening in on Beta team's status. They needed to do another operation while the team led by Sidonis was out. Another golden opportunity: taking out Blood Pack's leader, Garm, while Sidonis and the others hit a prime Blood Pack base.

"We'll need you to come with us on this one. We have about an hour before Beta team reaches their destination and is ready to move."

"I don't work with a team." She answered, her holo image barely a silhouette. Erash had patched her though to their HQ but she'd purposely blurred the visuals. He caught the movement of her shoulders: did she just shrug? Or was it a glitch? "I'm afraid I'll have problems following orders."

"And comprising is impossible because…?"

"It's not like you're paying me."

"Now you just sound like a merc."

"A mercenary?" She snorted. "Mercs are crude, violent. I'm an artist. And artists need commission. Aria asked me to do you one thing. And I asked you to choose: Intel or fieldwork. You chose and I delivered."

"Won't we be fine without Beta team?" Sensat interrupted. She sounded sweet but even Garrus noticed the tick above her eye. "They will be drawing most of their forces to them."

"Blood Pack is made up of a lot muscle, in other words, lots of krogan and vorcha who don't know when to die." Garrus hummed. "We have you to deal with them when they get too close which is good. But, if there's a way for them to not get close at all? Much better. Thus, an extra line of defense would make the plan sounder."

"Look," Legacy interjected. "If you need me for your plan then I think you're in way over your head. Didn't we discuss that you should take it easy for a while?"

"I don't think Archangel asked Aria's pet for advice." Melanis growled, her mandibles twitching upwards. The plates on her face tightening together.

Garrus thought it was the best time for him to intervene before Legacy chose to reply. "The time to strike would be now, since activity has been slow while I was recovering. They won't see it coming."

"Archangel, Garm has an army of vorcha. Even if you take down the ones at the base, there are two more bases approximately less than half a klick away. This isn't just high risk, it's a miscalculation. Withdraw your team and reconvene. Fight another day when the odds are higher and in your favor."

"Smaller forces have faced greater odds before. We've got this, Legacy. And if you're there, you'll be less worried."

"I'm afraid the answer is still no." She replied, voice crackling with the static and the image wavered and blinked in and out but her tone was clearly cold. "Let this be a lesson to you, Archangel. There are risks we should all avoid. Legacy out."

"Hmph, what does she know?" Melanis muttered, turning to Garrus. "Shall we get to it, boss?"

He nodded silently, lingering behind the Board Room before heading to the shuttle to hit Blood Pack's HQ. He gripped his rifle tightly, trying to get Rachel's voice and her warning out of his head.

* * *

The dreams had started again.

It always began now with the visions from the Prothean ruin, it wasn't even a Beacon but it still had sunk its teeth into her. There were so many dead. People that didn't need to die, she thought, there were always too many of them

Then the other dreams came after, structured as they usually were.

She sat in a cell after Akuze, refusing to eat or speak to anyone. Every time she closed her eyes she saw her team die: crushed into meaty little pieces, partly eaten, and insides spilling over. When she returned the Alliance gave her their condolences, their platitudes and locked her up in a cell so they could watch her. Officially, she'd been released and honorably dismissed but in truth, she was down the road to becoming stark raving mad.

Nothing Lor had said, what they had done and trained together, had prepared her for the responsibility of taking care of lives other than her own. Not any of the villa's simulations or training. She didn't know what to do, what to think: die, maybe? But she wasn't ready to die.

It was Hackett who came in then. Newly appointed Admiral at the time they first met and he had recruited her he was still fresh faced. But now he looked old and grey. She owed him a lot. He gave her the second chance no one had given her before, not since Lor. Along all other things she still owed him and his family.

"Sir," She croaked from under the blankets, huddled and shivering.

She looked up at him, his eyes shining in the dark. She'd never been able to confirm if he was crying that day. "Shepard."

No response.

"It wasn't your fault, child. You did everything you could."

No response.

"Shepard?"

No response.

The silence crept on for minutes. Stretched taut in her dreams and memories until all he could do was stand in front of her, unmoving and patient. She thought then that it wasn't Hackett's fault. At least Hackett deserved more than just her silence.

She whispered back at last. "They died. They died because I wasn't ready."

"No." He answered quickly. "You were ready. They only had a fighting chance because you were there."

"But I failed." She whispered again. "And now, they're dead. They had families and friends. They shouldn't have died."

He sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, clasping it. She'd shivered at the contact but it wasn't cold. She could feel the warmth even through her blanket. Everything else was just so cold, everything but that hand.

"Shepard," He spoke softly. "The Alliance, no humanity, still needs you. What you were able to do in Akuze—it was nothing short of a miracle. The brass doesn't want to let you go just yet. They want you to lead another team."

She shook her head. "I can't, Hackett." She sobbed. "I can't."

"Shepard," His hand on her shoulder tightened. "You know more about being a leader than anyone of your rank. The group they're about to assign to you—no other soldier or marine will be able to teach them what you know. They don't have the wisdom, the skill, or a sliver of your courage and they definitely won't have the compassion. Only you can do this.

"I believe in you, Commander."

Despite Hackett's encouraging words and her own promotion, Shepard took a long time to get back on her feet. She still barely ate and even when she did she trained till she puked. She talked to the psychologist, or talked circles around her but that had helped in its own way.

When she met her new team, after almost half a year of rehabilitation later, they were standing side by side in a straight line. There were seven of them, all of them she had never seen before even at N-school. Hackett stood beside her, older and more tired. He spoke without the gentle tone he had used when she was still in her cell.

"Marines, you will no longer answer to orthodox chain of command save your commanding officer and a few of the brass, including myself." He turned to her. "For the next six months you will know the ins and outs of your new profession from your commanding officer."

She stepped forward, towards them. "I'm Commander Shepard. Welcome to the Dominion, marines. From this day forward you will no longer exist."

She had wanted to be reintroduced to the seven faces again, but her omni-tool bleeped insistently, and she woke. It was zero-four-hundred hours Galactic Standard time, practically too early before anything should be happening—even crime, supposedly.

She thought it was Aria, being bitchy again. But when a batarian spoke in the other line she froze at his words. "Legacy, boss took a bad hit. Our doctor can barely do anything but cauterize the wound. Any other doctor is suspect. Do you know anyone we can trust?"

She could hear a lot of yelling in the background, probably his team scattering for purchase. She liked their tech expert, Erash—as much as she could like someone who was a near stranger. He barely seemed to be affected by anything but at the same time he had to be worried. She doubted any of them had the capacity to tell him to call her.

She sighed through the comm, her bare feet padding towards the bathroom and her arm up so he could hear her. She washed the sleep off her face with the free hand and brushed her teeth. "Your team?"

"Bumps and bruises. All accounted for."

"Garm?"

"Boss almost had him when he chased him too far. Then the ugly vorcha came and he had to retreat."

She tried to hide her chuckle at Erash's expense, but if he noticed he didn't say anything about it. "Is he conscious?"

"Fades in and out."

"Mm. Where's the wound?"

"I don't know much about what part is what but- his gut? Somewhere near the—really skinny middle."

"Hah, it's bad then but he'll live. Stubborn bastard that he is." She began typing furiously at her omni-tool. She was already dressed in armor without Aria's insignia when he finished talking. She paused in her typing to put her black gloves, noting the color of the scars as a pale brown before responding again. "I'll call the doctor I know and tell him your boss is coming. I'll send his coordinates of his clinic to you and call for safe transport. ETA four minutes."

There was a pause. "You have HQ's coordinates?"

"It's my job to know."

Another pause. "I see. Please, then."

"No problem. Keep your boss lucid."

"Okay," He let out a long rush of breath. "Okay."

"He'll be fine, Erash. Tell the second-in-command. Sidonis, was it?"

"Yes. And okay," He breathed out again. A long suffering sigh of patience and strain he must have been holding while everyone else was panicking on his end of the line. "Yes. I'll tell him."

"Legacy out." She put the comm down and strode out of her apartment with her fingers back on her omni-tool and connecting to the good doctor through the other line. He answered, half asleep but with an alert sounding: "Legacy. Calling late again. Mortal injury so soon after last?"

"Dr. Solus," She sighed at the comm. "I'm calling in for another solid."

* * *

Garrus woke in a med bay, but a very rundown one.

Not much people were inside, but he could tell by the ones on the neighboring cots that most of them were sick or injured. People in unofficially, if not grimy uniforms, were flying about and chattering through a lot of medical jargon that he couldn't understand. The place was run down, though. And the medical equipment outdated by at least a year.

Searching the room some more for his teammates, he spotted the familiar human figure of Rachel, legs crossed and nose buried in a magazine—wait, was she holding _Fornax_?

"Doctor," She said suddenly over her shoulder, mask in place. But he noticed her hair was cut short and layered. Strangely, it suited her more than her hair before—it looked more practical. "I think you're right. They're actually not genetically modified."

"I thought so. Asari mammary glands vary. Still all bigger than female human counterpart." A salarian doctor walked in, two glasses of water in hand. One he handed to Legacy who smiled with her eyes, her other hand still held the other magazine. The salarian turned to face him. "Ah, awake." He placed the other glass on the bedside table next to Garrus's cot.

"You're—"

"Mordin Solus. Doctor. Attending physician. Legacy's," He paused first to consider, looking back at Rachel before she nodded, eyes bright. "Friend."

"I'm—"

"Garrus. Safest name to utter. Already figured out alias."

"My team—"

"Sent them home. Noisy. Disruptive. And they needed some sleep."

"And where am—"

"Residential Gozu District. Makeshift med bay. Safe." Mordin blinked twice. Garrus grumbled, glaring.

Legacy laughed softly. "You're not going letting him get much edgewise, are you, doctor?"

"Interrupted sleep I was actually enjoying. Entitled to it." He replied, lightly.

She dropped her mask and finished her water in a few gulps. "Doctor, aren't you too old for petty revenge?"

"Never too old to receive due payment." He nodded, probably amused inside but sure to not show it to Garrus. "Will be attending to the other patients across the hall. And, will tell Abrams he was wrong about asari."

Rachel didn't bother to hide that she was amused. "Of course, doctor. Thank you."

Solus blinked at Garrus a few more times before he turned and walked away. Rachel waited for him to leave before setting the magazine and empty glass down.

"Should I even ask about the Fornax, Rachel?"

"It was of medical interest to Mordin." She rested her hands on her lap. "And his assistant claimed that asari had a—what is 'boob job' in Galactic terms?"

"Right." He just felt dizzier. "Appropriate conversation between medical professionals: talking about— those." He motioned at her general area, the top portion and felt awkward for it because now he was staring—even if he never understood the attraction but he still shouldn't stare because humans could be sensitive about those things. But Rachel just laughed breathily.

"Salarians have little interest in sex, Vakarian. Or, those." She mocked the way he did his motion and he laughed back.

"Thankfully. I don't know what I would do if you started explaining it to me. Or worse, showing me."

"Like I would give you a show." Her eyes brightened and there was a small smile on her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone tore my organs out through my chest. Otherwise, not so bad. My head is clear."

"Mordin decided to give you the weakest pain killers. Something about it helping you heal faster."

Garrus groaned. "And you believed him?"

"He has been my doctor for a good couple of years now." She grinned. "And he was so happy to see you suffer. I almost forgot he could be violent sometimes for someone so full of sense." She opened up her omni-tool. "Erash called me and said you needed medical help. Shall I call him to tell your team that you're awake?"

Garrus shook his head, no. "They should rest. And listen, you—" He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He saw Rachel looking at him, serene and without a trace of anger. None he could read, anyway. "I'm glad you aren't lording this over my head right now. I—pushed myself too hard there. But when I saw that Garm was all alone, that I could end him—"

"I probably would have done the same." She interjected. "People like me. Hell, I'm still alive today because of grudges. I know what it's like to have the enemy in your scope and then when shit hits the fan, you have to sound the retreat or else it's you and not them."

"Yeah." Garrus sighed, sitting up so he could look at her better. "I shouldn't have compromised my team like that."

"They could handle themselves. They got you out in one piece, after all."

"They did." His talon traced the bandage wrapped around his waist and chest. Garrus sighed. "I should have taken your advice. Did you, ah, that is did you have your own team before being such a loner?"

He did ask jokingly and he really wasn't expecting her to answer. But her eyes lost its glow and his mandibles twitched a little. Not one of his shining moments of humor, then. She looked down to study her hands, wiggling her fingers like it was the most interesting thing (though he had to admit, having five fingers had him staring at them too—it's not like there were a lot of humans in C-Sec while he was still in the force or at Spectre training).

She looked up at him. "My first team—I was made de facto leader because I was the next in rank. They were killed in action. We were facing impossible odds, but I had hoped that we'd live through it. But they died, all of them. I was the only one who made it out alive."

Garrus felt immediately guilty for asking. He opened his mouth to say something but then what could he possibly tell her? Anything but platitudes, surely, but then there was nothing else he could think of. He could say now he understood why she liked working alone? Now he knew why a team didn't suit her? Garrus wasn't sure when he'd become so rude or so quick to judge.

Rachel noticed his distress and managed a small, painful smile. He felt guilty for that expression as well. "Don't worry about it, turian."

"Sorry."

"There's no reason to be. You didn't kill them." Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. "My second team was disbanded. I'm proud to say we're all accounted for—in spite of the reasons why we aren't together now."

"They're not—vigilantes like you and I, are they? Or borderline criminals, especially in your case. If the authorities managed to actually pin down your identity you'd have an eight figure bounty on your head now, at least."

That got her to laugh and he felt immensely better for it. "It takes a special brand of crazy to become a vigilante."

"Well, it is hard to get that right combination of good-looking and badass."

"And conceit."

"It's not bragging if it's the truth." He let out a chuckle of his own and she smiled at him. "But on a serious note: thanks for helping out. Again. And for telling me about your teams—for educational purposes."

"Just doing my job, Vakarian." She stood up from her chair checking her omni-tool before wincing. "Twenty messages. You'd think the queen of Omega would have enough warm bodies to do her dirty work." She typed furiously, brows drawn so close together it created a crease. "I'll send a message to Erash to tell your team that you're awake and to come by in an hour or so. Enough time for you to get more rest."

She moved towards the exit but he reached out, holding her by the forearm, near her elbow. It would have meant a lot in his culture, the implicit trust he placed on her for all the times she'd helped him and his team and even Commander Alenko. She flinched at first at his touch and looked like she would pull away but he met her gaze and she calmed. "Really, Rachel. You've done more than you have to. I owe you."

Her eyes moved down to the talons on her arm, then quickly over to his face, then to his eyes. What was she trying to find in his expression, he wondered. What was she searching for and had she found it when she smiled. "I promised Mrs. Butler I would grab a coffee at the Eden Blue. When we're not both shooting things, maybe you can buy me a cup or two."

"Done." He let go of her arm, mandibles twitching to some expression that humans might call a smile. "It's a date."

"A less violent one, I hope?"

"I was only trying to get to know you."

She laughed, back turned already as she made her way out. She called over her shoulder "I bet you tell that to all the girls."

"Only the ones who can shoot my brain clear out of my head."

"Shut up and rest, turian."

He chuckled to himself, moving back into the bed and the covers. His hand twitched, remembering how strangely soft Rachel's arm was compared to a turian's. And the way she looked at him when he did it, eyes roving and moving from one point of his face to the other: memorizing, detailing, remembering.

When he closed his eyes after a while, thinking about her and what she had said and done, sleep embraced him and he allowed it to take hold.


	10. Chapter 9

_While I have to get both this story and my life in order, there will be a delay in the update. Most likely, a two week delay. Hopefully, I can get my stuff together. Thank you for all your support (by either leaving me a comment/review, adding me in your list, etc.)! Till next time._

Chapter 9

It took another three days for him to heal enough to leave the clinic (or for Mel and Sidonis to force him to bed rest). And then the team stuck to little jobs after that, focusing on information gathering and strengthening connections. He told them they'd fully operational in another two months so until then, they could all just "let their hair down" (whatever that meant, but Mierin said it was the appropriate phrase).

There was a collective look of relief on all their faces, mostly on the humans. But it was Butler to first voice it out. "Praise the Lord, boss. I thought we'd have to work through Christmas at this rate. I wouldn't know how to explain it to Nalah."

"Has it been that long already since we've started?" Monteague breathed. "Doesn't feel like all that much time has passed. The eight or so months just flew right by." He grinned at Garrus. "Maybe we can finally get to the range and shoot some targets, sir."

"You're a fair shot, Monty." Ripper looked smug with his arms crossed and hands under his arms. "But the boss could you screw you sideways, under, over, where ever and whenever. Hell and back."

Montaegue nose wrinkled at that and Mierin just put her head in her hands, shaking it with a groan. Even Garrus thought that the sentence shouldn't have translated so well so he could be blissfully ignorant of whatever mental image that brought up.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ripper." Montaegue finally replied. "Anyway, I'd like to learn from the best when I can."

"As long as that's all you want to learn. Then, I'm game." Garrus received a lot of surprised laughter and Montaegue's glare for that. "But, you'll have to enlighten me. What is Christ-mass?"

"It's Christmas." Mierin corrected.

"Right. Christmas. What is it?"

Surprisingly, it was Sensat who looked up at him and answered. "Boss, have you not heard of Christmas? Even some asari have taken up the tradition. Didn't the humans ever celebrate it when you were in C-Sec?"

Garrus flinched at the reminder of C-Sec. He had only ever revealed that part of his past to his team. He couldn't bring himself to say that he had been in the Normandy and worked with _the_ Commander Alenko too. Or that he got in the Spectre training program. He'd probably never have to tell them unless one of them pried it out of him. Even then it would take a lot of prying.

"Boss?"

"Ah, I think I heard it in passing." He paused, thinking about it, banishing censored portions of the life he left behind. "But it's not like I went out of my way. Too much paperwork and too much red tape to tear off. There was also the daydreaming about the faces I would like to smash, in between."

"Aye, I hear you, boss." Vortash nodded. "Surprised no one asked you out on a date or something though. Or even a C-Sec party. They do party in the Sec, don't they?"

"They're officers, Vor. Not mechs." Meirin replied with a glare.

Vortash shrugged. "Looking at you? I don't think you're the prime example of C-Sec warmth, Mei-Mei."

She punched him the arm, hard. Vortash held back a howl.

Garrus wouldn't be deterred though. "A date? Why would people go on dates on Christ-mass?"

"Christmas." Sensat interrupted him this time.

"Right. That word."

"Well, depending on where you are from Earth, people celebrate it differently. For most it's a religious and family event. For others, it's a time for friends or lovers. Colonies are pretty much the same about it too." Mierin shrugged. "Normally I'd head back to Earth to visit my brothers in New York but I don't really wanna leave Omega. They'll have to deal with a video chat."

"Cold."

"Shut it, Vor."

"So, you guys just—gather? Isn't that a normal day?" Garrus blinked at all his other non-human teammates. Shuffling through the datapads, Sidonis muttered to himself and probably had no idea what they were talking about or didn't care. Melanis was picking dirt from under her talons with a knife. Erash just didn't seem all the interested was typing things down next to Krul who blinked back at Garrus. However, Sensat seemed both enchanted and amazed all at once.

"Well, we exchange gifts."

"Why?

"Christmas used to be a pagan celebration but it got adopted into Christianity. But even non-Christians celebrate it. We basically give thanks to everyone around us, who've helped us or cared for us. It's a festive ritual." Weaver walked in, twenty minutes late and fresh from the dock. Dark haired with almond brown eyes. Garrus wasn't sure but apparently he had the face women found "cute." His smile was a pleasant one. "What did I miss, boss?"

"A hell lot." Mierin motioned with her head at Grundan who grunted behind her. "He'll bring you up to speed. But basically: we're on vacation for a while."

"Really? Pity, would have wanted to stay with my family in Tiptree for Christmas."

"You'd miss the party!" Sensat jumped up a little. "We are having a party, right? And we can exchange gifts!"

All the humans exchanged looks. Garrus would have called xenophobia but they all just burst out laughing. Butler clamped a hand on Sensat's shoulder. "Girl, that's a great idea. We can have it in the Eden Blue. The wife won't mind the extra company. But—ah, you guys know how the gift giving goes?"

"Is it similar to Betau?" Krul spoke. All the humans turned to him, all confused. "New Year celebration for exchanging favors among salarians."

"Well," Butler scratched the back of his head. "Most of the time, the gifts are tangible. Unless you know the person real well it's risky to give anything else. You give stuff you know the person likes: jewelry, clothes—that kind of stuff."

"It's frivolous." Sidonis muttered, apparently he was listening. "Money and resources wasted on gifts isn't efficient."

Sensat's face fell. "But isn't the sentiment wonderful?"

"If a turian wanted to thank another turian, he gives him a nod and owes him one. If the gifts have to be tangible they'd have to be weapons or tools he can use it combat or in his trade."

Butler rolled his eyes. "That's a fine gift too. But you can't give a weapon mod to someone like Nalah! She'd probably cry and tell me I don't know anything about her. Bottom line is that the more meaningful the gift the better. Like, if I gave Mei a thong she'd probably clock me over."

Melanis looked up from picking her talons. "I didn't formally celebrate Christmas here in Omega. But the humans who ran our orphanage used to set up the best meals around this time of the year. Don't bother trying to explain it to Sidonis, he thinks acts of gratitude are beneath him."

"You—"

"Anyway," Garrus interrupted. "So, how would it go between lovers? Any different?"

"Well, they'd celebrate alone for sure." Butler waggled his eyebrows. Garrus had to find out the hard way what that meant.

"And when is Christmas?"

"A two weeks from now."

Garrus stiffened. "Really. Exactly two weeks from now?"

"Yeah." Butler nodded, now his eyebrows furrowed. "What's with this line of questioning? Did you have something set that day?"

"Well," Garrus shifted his stance. Melanis and Sidonis turned away from glaring at each other just to look at him. Great. "I didn't really mean for it to be a date but we both happened to free that day so I asked Legacy if she'd want me to pay up for helping us out. We're supposed to go get coffee."

"Woah, wait—Legacy? Legs that go on forever and lithe figure, Legacy?" Butler backed up. "_Human _Legacy?"

"Not to mention that ass." Ripper muttered, crossing his arms. "No excess but with those hips and her tiny waist. Bust isn't too big but it wouldn't suit her. She's right on all the places, _very_ right. What does her face look like, boss?"

"Uh, human?"

"Useless, turian." Butler shook his head bitterly. "She's definitely a looker under that mask, guys. All the beautiful girls go for the ugly ones with "great" personalities." He had the gall to use air quotes.

"Who is Legacy?" Weaver interjected.

"A hot lady who could kill us all with a toothpick." Butler nodded.

"Boss," Weaver looked mock hurt. "At least give us the beautiful, dangerous ones. All the nice ones flock to the asari!"

Garrus crossed his arms. "I'm considered a looker in Palaven, you know? And highly eligible according to the Hierarchy."

"Maybe she didn't know it wasn't that kind of date?" Monteague chimed in, earning Garrus's glare for ignoring him. "Why she would say yes to a turian? I mean, the boss is cool and all but he's not exactly human."

"Boss, if you want to start punching then I will definitely hold them down for you." Melanis hissed, putting her knife down.

"Oh, Mel, we're just playing!" Butler walked up to her and slapped her on the shoulder. She didn't look pleased at the gesture but he didn't seem to care. "But, I dunno maybe we should ask her. Right now. Vid comm even."

"Subtle, Butler." Garrus chuckled. "But it, uh, wouldn't be considered rude or anything? To ask if this was a date?"

"It would be _very _rude. But you're Archangel, so fuck it!" Ripper turned to Erash. "We've got see her face."

Erash shrugged. "She looks human. I don't see what all the hype is about."

"You've _seen_ her face?" Butler yelled.

Erash blinked his four eyes several times. "She knows her tech. Other than the boss and Weaver who wasn't around, you're all varren shit at it. Also," He added a grin. "She's nice."

Krul nodded. "Judging by aesthetic human appeal, I suppose she is very attractive. And she does have a pull that is almost asari-like."

"You've seen her too?" Butler reached for his hair, pulling. "Where is the justice in this? She just shows her face to all the aliens!"

"The cool and ugly aliens, you mean." Garrus added. "But fine, Erash, patch her in for a video comm."

"Boss," Mierin looked anxious. "I can tell that Legacy isn't exactly a normal woman but I don't think ambushing her like this will be very pleasant. Especially in front of men who just spoke about her like a piece of meat."

"Like meat? They didn't—"

"Human expression, boss."

"Ah," He paused to think. Legacy kept to herself often. But it seemed she spoke to Erash and Krul through comm and without her mask (and without him knowing about it either). Nothing much fazed her either and so if this got under her skin, even just a little, then he wanted to do it. However, he didn't want to feel guilty about pushing some kind of button that would make her furious.

"Look, whether or not it's a date—I don't even really see humans in _that_ way. They look—squishy and fragile. Even if Legacy is less so, I still did manage to bash her head in. A turian would have a carapace to reduce the impact, even a little."

Weaver was about to ask what had happened and finally Grundan dragged him to the side. Butler backed down. "Well, boss, don't you at least want to know if you should get her a gift?"

"Well—"

"You don't want to get her one?"

Garrus thought about it for a while again. Rolling his shoulders, he turned to Erash. "Fine. Patch her through, Erash."

The batarian shrugged. "I don't think she'll like this, boss."

Garrus was almost shocked that he picked her side. Almost. "She doesn't have to know you were in on it."

Erash smirked. "Patching her in."

All four men gave each other high fives, save Grundan who just looked ashamed for a man his bulk. Garrus was almost pleased, even with the glare Mierin sent Garrus's way that he had to shrug off.

"She isn't available for video comm but the audio one is—sir, I think there's gunfire in the background."

"We caught her in the middle of a firefight?" Garrus asked. "Wait, why would she accept the call?" Shaking his head, he gave Erash the signal to patch her through.

"Vakarian," she breathed through the comm. There was a lot of bullets firing around her, it seemed. "Rather busy, so this better be good."

"No one likes a show off, Legacy." Garrus crossed his arms, and then his eyes became sharp. "Do you need help?"

"The Blue Suns are acting up near the clinic. They've instigated a battle with one of the minor gangs in the middle of the street. Sadly, some little shits think this is the best time to start plundering houses and clinics." There was the distinct noise of her reloading and firing, reloading and fire— the rhythm of it almost made Garrus relax instinctively. "Mordin said the mechs are in maintenance so I should stand guard. This is nothing I can't handle on my own but I don't think the residents are as lucky."

Garrus gave his team a look that got them setting up their equipment. Butler sighed loudly. "Guess it's never going to be a real vacation, we'll probably get called in for the occasional battles."

"Duty calls." Garrus reached for his Mantis on the table, already equipped with a new scope. He turned back to the general direction of the comm device. "Legacy, ETA eight minutes."

"Much obliged, Archangel. Legacy out."

* * *

When the Blue Suns decimated the minor gang and the looters were going wild, Archangel arrived and they scattered like ants. Legacy had already headed back inside the clinic, helping transport more injured from the skirmish outside.

In less than an hour, the whole Archangel team walked in. On point was Vakarian who kept his helmet on and his face hidden. Legacy was sitting on one of the couches near the door, legs crossed and half her face covered by her mask. She sifted through the contents of a datapad furiously.

"Legacy," Vakarian called out to her. There was a general spike of excitement from the group of human men behind him. One of the females kicked one of them in the shin and it died down by a fraction. "You look like varren shit."

She couldn't see herself but she hadn't really bothered to fix her hair or wipe the blood off it either. "Better than pyjack shit. I hate the color green." She put the datapad down and rubbed her eyes. She'd been having dreams lately, more than usual. Sleep was becoming a luxury. There were also the occasional night calls from Aria and with last night's weird gift—damn, Aria.

Rachel knew, however, that she needed to keep her health up, the body was the tool of an artist and it wouldn't do to ruin it with stress and fatigue. "Coincidental, really. I came by the clinic to pick up some stims and then the skirmish happened. Awful timing."

"Rotten luck. It hits the best of us, especially when we're down."

She felt herself smiling, even if he probably couldn't see it. Rachel couldn't see his face either and with his helmet his subharmonics sounded more intimidating and mysterious. She leaned back against the rest of the couch and crossed her arms. "Anyway, you called. Is there something you needed?"

He shifted his weight. "Now I feel petty for calling you when you're tired."

She waved his comment aside. "Please. I've been through worse."

"It's really not all that important." He glanced back at his team. She couldn't see it but she was sure he was glaring at the one corner where there were mostly human men. They turned their gazes to different parts of the clinic. "Sorry, I called at the wrong time."

Rachel blinked up at him and then titled her head to the side. "Okay, now I'm curious. What is it?"

"It's nothing. Really."

"Oh, it's definitely something. You better tell me soon, turian. I'm going to start guessing and it will be embarrassing for all of you. I can be pretty ruthless."

Vakarian started. "Maybe we should start walking—"

Rachel turned her gaze sharply to the asari who froze in place at her stare. She also noted the searching look, the wide innocent glow and the curiosity behind her glance. She remembered Liara then, how innocent she was before Alenko died. Rachel hadn't made it any better with all the things she had taught her. But she wanted the girl to survive and she wouldn't unless she trusted less and acted more. It was an inappropriate thing to remember and her good humor died down. "Very well. I'll see you in two weeks, Vakarian."

Save for Vakarian himself, other turians, the salarian, and the hulky man in the back—all of them visibly flinched. That caught Rachel's eye and she looked back up at the turian and a fine eyebrow rose in amusement. "I see. I got it in one, didn't I? Is there a problem?"

"Well, no." He paused. "It's just that I heard from my team that it was Christ-mass."

"Christmas." The asari chimed in.

"Right. That word. So I was wondering if—"

Her omni-tool started chiming, a series of bells that rose an octave when left ignored—a setting Aria had installed to warn her who exactly was calling. That had Rachel rolling her eyes at it. "Like I'm going to answer her." She killed it with an aggressive press of a button.

"Who was that?"

"Aria."

"_Aria_. You put your comm down. On Aria." Vakarian took a step back. His team obviously looked like they'd rather not be part of whatever Rachel was about to get herself into. "I think you have too much quad than what's good for you, Legacy. But at least you didn't hang up mid-conversation." He looked like he wanted to add something more, but he glanced at the team behind him and couldn't go on. Something they weren't supposed to know, Rachel betted.

"I've spat on her shoes too. Even Grizz found that funny and the turian doesn't react much. She hit him instead though so that was fun." She looked up at him and her eyes sparkled. "She'll call again, for sure. Want to watch me hang up on her mid-conversation next?"

"Goddess," The asari in their group walked forward. "Can I?"

"Boss, I think most of us should get going." Sidonis cleared his throat. Most of them shifted, probably all afraid that they would die if they were caught giggling at Aria getting snubbed.

"I'll catch you guys later. Sensat, go with them."

She looked up at him with a really sad look. Almost puppy-like that it must have made him waver because he looked away really fast. "Sensat—"

His team was already near the door, far from earshot when the ringing started again. Both of them froze and Rachel reached for the comm button. "Ready?" They both looked at each other and then they both looked at her and nodded. Holding back a little gleeful giggle when she turned her comm on and Aria's holo shot out of it.

"Legacy, you better not—"

And then she shut it down with a press of her omni-tool and, three dark laughs from three different races resounded through the clinic. If the staff or patients heard, they tried their best to ignore them.

Vakarian was the first to sober. "Tell me you do this often."

"Only when I feel I have every right to. "Legacy leaned back down again. "Her idea of a joke escalates every time I don't complain."

The asari, Sensat, she heard Vakarian call her had only stopped laughing then. "What did she do?"

Rachel looked up at her wearily. "I think she was trying to help with my fatigue. And then, she went too far and—"

The omni-tool didn't ring this time but Aria's holo came out anyway. Even Legacy blinked up at the image of Aria, standing, arms crossed and absolutely livid. Rachel knew she shouldn't have let her pseudo-boss tinker with her omni-tool. "I hope you've had fun laughing at my expense, Legacy. And pull your mask down."

"As if you didn't deserve that." Legacy glared but obeyed. Her smile was feral and showed a lot of teeth. "And you were being rude, I have guests."

"Tell me who they are and I'll send someone to kill them for me."

Sensat jumped a little at that but Vakarian's hand on her shoulder made her ease up. Rachel smiled at the holo. "You always send me to kill for you now, Aria. And I refuse. Dare to send someone else?"

Aria replied with a low laugh. "I was getting in the spirit for your little human occasion. It was rude of you to send back my present."

"Aria," Rachel said patiently. "The next time you send a _hooker _to my personal apartment, an apartment no one is supposed to know I live in, I will lay mines on your floor of Afterlife, personally."

"We pumped him full of drugs afterwards, he won't remember shit even if you pried it out of his brain with the best tech." Aria shrugged. "And you need to get laid, maybe the nightmares will leave when you relax."

"You're never relaxed and you sleep just fine."

"My conscience is clear."

"You're a fucking bitch, that's why."

"Come here to Afterlife and say that to my face." Aria hissed.

"Make me." Rachel shut down the omni-tool again. She looked up at her two guests. She couldn't tell what kind of face Vakarian was pulling but he was leaning on one leg with his arms crossed—likely amused then. Sensat, on the other hand was smiling a little. "Something wrong?"

"She must really like you." Sensat smile became wider. "Even if she gave you something strange."

Rachel rolled her eyes, standing. "I'm just a convenient pet who needs her help. So Vakarian," She looked at him, eyebrow raised. "What were you about to say? Tell me before I run around and avoid Afterlife."

"I was just going to ask," He cleared his throat. Sensat nudged him encouragingly on his side. Even if she couldn't see through his helmet, she could tell he must have looked down at the asari and given her a thankful glance. "What you wanted for Christ-mass—I mean, Christmas." He beat Sensat before she corrected him.

"Ah, well, anything really. Just no strippers or drugs or prostitutes, please."

"And I was going to ask if you wanted a human or an asari." He said smoothly.

Rachel looked up at him and laughed. "Well. I'm tired of Aria's smug purple face. So if I do need you to get me a hooker then anything but asari, please. Don't forget to put a bow on top of him."

"And if I send you a turian?"

She beamed at him. "You're going to send yourself over, Vakarian?"

"You know me, Legacy, vigilante by day. King of the Night come evening. I have to pay the bills somehow and you know all I have going are my mad skills and my face. I don't do bows though. Make me look fat."

Laughing, she waved him off. "I'll see you in two weeks, Vakarian." Still smiling she put an arm on his shoulder, a fleeting touch she registered as unnecessary and berated herself. She kept walking though, heading for the door. "And don't worry about the gift. You don't have to give me anything. See you. And," She smiled at Sensat. "It was nice meeting you as well, Sensat."

She left before any of them could say goodbye.

* * *

"She was—amazing. Different from when we talk to her as a holo for work."

That was the fifth time Garrus heard Sensat gush as they left the clinic. They were taking the long route to the HQ, hoping to divert anyone into thinking that they were who they were. For all anyone knew, they just had a checkup in the clinic and were on their way home.

"No wonder Erash likes her. He doesn't like anyone except maybe you."

"Really big maybe there, Sensat."

"And she was beautiful. I don't think I've known a human to be so beautiful."

"Really? I can tell the difference between one human from another—most of the time— but I don't know if I could consider her beautiful."

"You live a few hundred years and you'll probably never meet someone as pretty as her. Her eyes were so green and her laugh." Sensat laughed to herself as well. "But she was—how do humans put it? She was beautiful inside too. And yet," This time the asari looked up at him with her smile gone. "She looked so sad."

"She did look tired." Garrus nodded.

Sensat shook her head at that. He'd forgotten how perceptive Sensat was, it was easy to overlook her other qualities when she was smiling and gentle. But when in a firefight, she was a raging biotic. Nevertheless, she was also the first person to join Archangel after he and Sidonis had started it. She went out of her way to find him, picked him out from a crowd and said she knew he was Archangel and that she wanted to join them. He had panicked at first, reaching for his sidearm and aimed between her eyes. But even through his visor, her heart didn't quicken and her face didn't change. Confident, powerful and yet gentle. Garrus found Sensat admirable—she would have gotten along with the Normandy crew and Liara had he met her earlier.

"It's more than just tired. You could see it in her eyes, the shadows there." She shivered, holding on to her own arms. "And because Aria sent her a gift—must be worse than we know. I don't think Aria is the type to care about much. Legacy has made herself an exception." Sensat's gaze looked up at him, beaming wildly. "I'm happy to know she has you now."

"Me? We're barely friends. We just—knew each other before I came to Omega."

"You're going out of your way to meet her for coffee." Then she added. "And don't think I don't know who you're talking to via omni-tool. I know it isn't your sister."

"Wait, how did you know I have a sister?"

She smiled, silent. He shook his head at her. "And in any case, that's called paying for favors. Like Sidonis said, a turian knows how to give in return."

"Yet you went out of your way to ask what she wanted for Christmas." She was still beaming, he felt the nervous twitch of his mandibles. "You haven't even asked Melanis or Sidonis what they wanted and they're probably the closest things you have to friends in Archangel. You haven't even asked me, and we're walking together right now."

Garrus jumped. "Oh, uh, what do you—"

"Don't change the topic, boss. It's a little pathetic. The cute kind but still pathetic."

"But what is the topic?" He stopped in his tracks and Sensat got a few steps ahead of him before she turned back to look at him. It was oddly empty, not even a vorcha had crawled out of the trash somewhere. He could hear the dripping noises from a loose pipe but other than that there was nothing but the two of them and the rancid stench of Omega. "I don't know where you're going with this, Sensat."

"I'm just saying," She said with a sigh. "That I think she would be a good friend to you too because you need those yourself, you deserve them."

"Well, Sensat, I—" He could have deflected with something witty but stopped himself. Looking up at him with such confidence, he didn't want to ruin her good intentions. He was probably an open book to her—she already knew there was a lot he hadn't told the group. Just earlier he had wanted to mention to Rachel that he had told Commander Alenko to drop the comm on the Council. The commander never did it, but every time they blamed him for letting the Rachni queen go free, for doing something to save the galaxy, etc. Alenko's hand had moved dangerously close to the button.

"Thanks for saying that, Sensat."

She smiled. "Anytime, boss."

"But just so you know, the team means a lot to me. You all do."

"I know, boss."

"And I doubt I would put my—friendship with Legacy ahead of any of you."

She looked like she was about to object but she nodded quietly anyway.

"Good. Let's go then."

Sensat waited for him to walk a little bit ahead of her before following behind him. The reached their HQ in silence.


	11. Chapter 10

_Ah, life really does beat you when your down. Nonetheless, writing makes life easier. :) Do enjoy the long chapter. Feedback will be loved 5ever (yeah, I used it. I would judge me too)._

Chapter 10

On Christmas Eve, Rachel put all her extra hours into Aria's Afterlife. Omega probably didn't really know it was near Christmas or what Christmas was. The calculations in Galatic Standard Time were weird too if a human hadn't been to the Sol system in a long, long time. But humans in Omega didn't seem to forget when a beloved holiday was and the season was a busy one for a sleazy club. A lot of lonely humans—no family and full of one-night lovers—but very few went to Omega because they loved it or chose it. More so the club that stood as its heart.

In her little corner at the second floor, before she was due to make rounds on the first, she was going at her omni-tool looking at her information broker's messages about the whereabouts of one Nyreen Kandros.

She couldn't tell Aria that Nyreen was part of the next phase of her plan, that Commander Alenko would need all the support he could get. Kandros may have lost her clout in the Hierarchy, but Rachel was sure she had some friends in the Cabal who could still get something done. Rachel had been tempted to cash in favors with her old contacts in Palaven but it was better to keep things nice and easy until she was sure she didn't have a choice and she'd have to reveal herself.

So far, her broker and friend, Barns found nothing solid on Nyreen's location. She feared contacting Liara for help. The Shadow Broker—if he ever knew who or what she was—would just make himself at least eight figures richer so that wasn't an option. Rachel might have to go to another friend and cash in more favors. Hating how much time and effort she was spending on this rather than looking for Lor, but she knew the commander needed this—least of all, the galaxy. If it made things easier for her in the long run in her personal quest later, she'd do it.

There was also the fact that Rachel never did anything by halves. She promised whatever help she was willing to provide to the commander and there was still honor amongst shadows.

Just when she was teetering near the edge because of the lack of leads in Barns's part to find out more, a message from Vakarian came through her omni-tool. Talking with Vakarian was easy, so easy that she felt relaxed in his presence. Maybe it was all the random messages they sent each other, the odd times she would be caught snickering at Afterlife. She was doing that now too because his one message read: '_Sensat won't shut up about you. I think you've indoctrinated her.' _came with the best timing

Near her post was Grizz, another turian who was less flashy but comfortable to be around. He would normally ignore her laughing but this time he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "At least share your porn if you're going to watch it in the middle of your shift."

"Not porn, Grizz." She turned her omni-tool off after a quick reply that said: _What can I say? Asari worship me._

"Whatever, Legs." The turian liked his puns, which was weird for a turian—they barely knew anything about human figures of speech. Maybe they were all unintentional. "You tell me why you're cackling there by your lonesome without an asari stripper."

"I don't laugh when I'm about to get it on, turian."

"Hah. That's what they all tell me but when I get going they all start laughing."

"That's because your technique is so poor they have to laugh. It's called pity."

His mandibles twitched into a smile. "Legs, you have no right to claim that unless you've tried me."

Her left eyebrow arched and she put her right hand on her hip. "You're really going there, Grizz?"

He smile was still in place. "Legs. I say you have the best pair around. No joke. And to do it with the girl with the hottest legs would be the best sex of my life."

Even through her mask and the music of Afterlife, her laugh was pretty loud. So his puns were deliberate. "Grizz, you have a thing for humans? And no attraction to tiny turian waists? What would your mother say?"

"She'd disown me and I'd end up in Omega." They both chuckled at that, apparently, he knew exactly what his mother would say because she'd already said it. "And heads up, Legs, lackey at your three."

She didn't need the warning because when the batarian ran up to them, the whole floor would have probably heard it. He was gasping a little loudly too. "Legacy, Patriarch wants to see you."

Rachel looked at Grizz who just shook his head. So, Aria didn't know anything about this. "What for?"

"He didn't say. But he wants you at his room immediately."

"I don't answer to Patriarch." She paused. "You tell him that the next time he needs me, he'll have to pay a lot of money and have a very good reason."

The lackey looked both scared and irritated at the same time but in the end, he nodded and left. Grizz shook his head. "Should we tell Aria?"

Her mind easily opened up to the possibilities: what could a meeting with the old king of Omega do for her? Patriarch may be a fallen Battlemaster, but he was still a powerful krogan, who ended up having to answer to a more powerful asari. However, he was sure he still had some friends, and those friends would have friends too. If she could gain some semblance of footing in Tuchanka as well, that would prove helpful to herself and to Alenko in the long run.

When the lackey came back, half the money in hand that was more than she'd made in the months she'd been in Omega, she smiled. She told the batrian she would see Patriach after her rounds.

"Would it be all right for you to keep a secret just this once, Grizz?"

The turian crossed his arms, mandibles twitching upwards into a smile. "I ain't cheap, Legs."

She smiled back at him. "If I come to work in a dress that showed my bare, human legs—"

"Done." He accepted easily, snapping back into guard duty. She laughed as he began to shoo her away. "Now, shut up and leave for work before Aria becomes suspicious of us."

* * *

When she met Vakarian in Eden Blue the next day, she felt battered from the lack of sleep and the job the Partriarch had sent her on. It was no joke and she wondered why Aria hadn't dealt with it already. There were emerging factions of mercenaries— hell, a new one cropped up every day and was either massacred or dismantled mere hours later. Normally they would have owed it to food chain to keep things balanced: the big eats the small.

Apparently, however, the vorcha were gathering. It wasn't a Blood Pack kind of organization, either. It was an all-out cockroach-like manifestation of how many vorcha actually lived in Omega and how easily they could just raid and kill everyone. Of course, no one ever worried because organization and vorcha never went in the same sentence.

Getting ahead of herself, she would say that either the Collectors or Reapers were involved. Personally, she thought it was something Cerberus would do to instill fear of aliens in the heart of every human being—the vorcha already had all that stigma against them that it wouldn't be hard to give one final push. Last night, she had stealthily made it inside one of their warehouses to investigate but she saw nothing that could lead her to definite conclusions.

"A long term project," She muttered as she made way into the sky car she had parked a ways away. "Perfect."

When she returned to her apartment to prepare, Rachel had donned her old armor (the markings on the back would have given her away) and she left her mask at the apartment as well. She got to their meeting late, at least by two Galactic hours. Sliding into the seat across Vakarian, she nodded at him and ordered her own drink. He didn't pry about how late she was or how long he had to wait for her.

"Sorry."

He pushed a plate of cookies with the flick of a talon. "It wouldn't be the first time I got stood up."

She noted that his subharmonics had a hint of fondness in them. Fondness from the memory? Or fondness that she was late? Strange turian. "I bet it's usually the other way around."

"Uh, no." There was the distinct twitching of his face plates that told her he was nervous. "It's not like I've had time to make attachments, even if they came my way."

"Not always as smooth as you are now, Vakarian?" She popped one of the bite size cookies into her mouth and had to stop the smile.

"I am really smooth, aren't I?"

"Cocky shit, more like."

"Too much praise, I can hardly take it. Here, have more cookies." He pushed the plate towards her again.

"Don't think you're going to get away without telling me about it."

"What? But I just gave you cookies."

"Am I going to have to start my guessing game?"

"Fine." His mandible clicked together. "But you're going to have to tell me something in return. And it better be good."

"I'm game." She challenged. "You first."

He bore his teeth and leaned in when her cup of coffee came. She could see in his blue eyes how he was filtering through his memories, trying to choose which one would be best suited to share. Rachel had to admit to herself that she had found what expressions she could read in his eyes and face interesting. The turians she knew, or had known were more closed off (at least to her, as human was she was) and she'd had to learn to discern their emotions through their voice (a limited effort, again, because she was as human as she was).

But Vakarian's face was different, his eyes different. He was surprisingly easy to read, at least to her. It had not attracted her the same way white innocence did, but Vakarian was obviously flawed: secretive but not false. Some shade of grey that was comforting. She wondered what his life would have been like if he had been made Spectre earlier (he was skilled enough for it, she was sure) and if they would have spent their lives chasing each other, hunting each other down. That would have been fun.

"So I was young, right? Barely into the military service before I started getting noticed. A little less than 20 years old and I've shown some promise."

"So boastful even in youth?"

"Quiet, Rachel." He waved her comment off and she snickered. "Anyway, so I had been given the opportunity to stand out even more. Looking back at it, it may have been one of the reasons why I was considered a Spectre candidate: though the odds were small. I'd been assigned a post on a dreadnought, a huge ship by the name of _Unconquerable_—and one of the captains there was into, hm, young men."

Rachel nearly spat out the cookies she was happily eating. Instead, she opted to choke on them until she took a sip of coffee and tried her best not to laugh too loudly, "You're kidding."

"Wish I was. She, uh, prepositioned me to duels several times. I don't know if you're aware that letting off some steam was allowed in the turian fleet?"

She nodded, remembering her own days and the times she had to fight side by side with turians. "I'm aware."

"Then, you'd know that as long as it doesn't get in the way of the mission we're allowed to fight?" She nodded and he nodded back. "I was her personal punching bag most days. And then when she prepositioned that it escalate into something more…" His grin was more eloquent then words and she chuckled. "With the meritocracy in place and her rank—well, we may have loose rules with regards to sex and violence but this was taboo. Rank stripping, even. Practically death to the eyes of the Hierarchy."

"Did you do it?" She leaned forward too. If she was honest it was because Vakarian's eyes had turned a dangerous and sharp shade of blue and she wanted a closer look.

"We did." He paused. "Have I mentioned she was married?"

"Well, shit."

"Shit and Spirits, indeed. It was a short relationship, a physical one but it was the world to me then. Didn't see how she strung me along: all that waiting around for her and she never came. When it was ending—well, I was young and I thought that was it. Stupid really. Our huge fight made a lot of noise, literally, and people came running. No one asked since her husband was someone up there. I fell a rank or two, nothing really.

"The look on my father's face, hah. He never really yelled at me for that. But he knew exactly who she was and what she'd done. Hah, never thought my father would ever come to defense on anything. Now that I think about it maybe it was actually his work that just got me demoted for insubordination."

She leaned her head on her hand and tilted her head. "Ever think of going back to Palaven to visit them? I mean, your family."

He leaned forward too, talons lacing together and he leaned his chin on his clasped hands. "I do. All the time. But it's difficult to explain things to my family, my father. A lot of bad blood no one wants to wash away. Wounds we've left to fester."

She huffed. "Family is important. I think you should go."

He considered this in silence for a while before he reached for his own drink and took a huge gulp. "Maybe I will, Rachel." Then his eyes sharpened again. "And now it's your turn."

"Ugh. How can you ruin our sweet moment just like that?"

His mandibles clicked. "Pay up, Rachel."

"Hmph. Fine." She straightened her back and crossed her legs. "Truthfully, I've only had one or two casual relationships." She smiled. "Say Vakarian—"

"Garrus—"

"Vakarian," She insisted sweetly and reached for a cookie and popped it into her mouth. Let him wait for to finish chewing for interrupting her. "I've told you there's a lot of stuff I can't tell you but what have you already guessed about my life?"

"Hm." There was the small shift and twitch of his face plates, upwards. Thinking, a retrieval sort of effort she noted when turians were about to recite something from memory. "That you've likely worked for the Alliance, is one."

"Good, so at least I hadn't unintentionally revealed anything to you." She smiled. "And what did you think they'd have me do there? My specialization, besides leading my own team?"

"Assassination was the top of my book." He paused and assessed her face. "But now I doubt it with the look you're giving me. I know your skills match an Infiltrator's."

"I'd tell you my work as an assassin won't lose out to the best. The same could be said about Larceny. I know how to hold my own in a firefight. Still, not my best quality." She smiled, holding out a cookie in her hand. "Come on, I bet the investigator in you is just dying to crack this."

"I'm working on overload now, Rachel. But I have one guess."

"Shoot."

"I've always wondered how you managed to get along with people so well. My team mates have pointed out that you only talk to 'cool, ugly aliens.'" He let her have her laugh before he continued. His eyes had a glint in them that wasn't there before and his mandibles were tightly pressed together. "And it just didn't add up. Even Alenko who had aliens on his ship had made a lot of unintentionally xenophobic mistakes on the way. But you've managed to dodge all of those and all too well for a human anyway. Too knowledgeable about certain alien customs, the fact that you knew the inner workings of a turian ship too. When we re-met here you had been in Eclipse uniform too.

"So now I think you must have been a spy of some sort. Am I right?"

Her grin had been unintentionally wide and he cursed. "I scored highest in subterfuge, according to my mentor. I always play to my strengths. But I barely do that kind of work now. Mostly, it's short term. Infiltrate, make some noise or don't depending on the job, and get out. Truthfully, I miss it a little: the mind games I'd have to play, the hours poured into research, people I had to pretend to be." Then she frowned. "Though I did regret how it affected my one serious relationship."

He sat up straight. "You don't have to talk about it if it's painful."

"It isn't. An old scar." She smiled, mimicking his earlier stance with her finger laced and her chin resting on them. "But the reasons why we aren't together aren't important. It was how we did that might interest you."

"Really?"

"He was intelligent, skilled, in a lot of ways dangerous and deadlier than I ever was."

"Sounds like your type."

"He fit right in to the lifestyle and demands, yes." They shared a smile before she continued. "But, funnily enough he wanted to do things right. Very traditional, centuries old stuff—he serenaded me when he asked me if he could 'court me.'"

"… I actually know what that is. I want to laugh but I don't think I should be laughing at happy memories, should I?"

"He had a lovely baritone voice. Frankly, I would have been happy if we just went to bed." She grinned. "He was way too nice for me."

Then he laughed, leaning back against the cushion of his seat. Then the humor left his tone when he asked, "Doesn't sound like the type of relationship that would just fail. What happened?"

She smiled. "He had questioned my motivations for getting into the relationship, for staying in it. He thought I was just repaying debts to his family. Frankly, I think he was right."

"Hm. I know I said you're probably not the settling down type but I think he lucked out there, Rachel."

"Oh? You think so?" She said playfully.

Vakarian didn't look like he was playing at all though. "He would have had one great adventure had he stayed with you."

She felt herself taken aback, her mouth hanging open with an intention to say something but instead she let it hang there until Vakarian, oblivious fool that he was, changed the subject while ordering himself another cup of coffee.

Oh well, Rachel thought. If she had told him that he had actually done something smooth then she wouldn't hear the end of it.

They didn't talk much about anything in particular after that. It seemed Vakarian was determined to keep the talk as light as possible and it was effective enough that Rachel had a hard time trying to excuse herself. There was conversations about weapons, weapon mods—sniper mods, particularly—and some new tech Erash was trying to build from scratch and something Sensat said about her that was practically hero-worship. It wasn't about anything really, but she found herself talking, smiling, and even laughing.

She couldn't remember the last time she had coffee or a drink with anyone—not outside the missions and the relaying of Intel. Not without some affair. And on Christmas too. When was the last time she took a holiday? Never.

Not since she was sixteen and Lor was still around. They'd celebrated Christmas in their own way. She still had the collection of ornate blades he got her every year since she was nine and until she turned 16. They were tucked away safely in one of her safe houses on Kahje, along with other belongings she couldn't afford to lose and couldn't afford to bring. Every year before she turned 16, she had demonstrated her skills to him and every year she improved. Nothing had made Lor happier, he didn't care so much about getting anything material from her. But she had learned how to bake a cake when she was nine, a chocolate one that really put a smile on his face when he ate it. They had cake and blades and fights for Christmas, it was wonderful.

When Nalah saw her and Vakarian in one of the corner tables, sitting in front of each other with the remnants of smoke from cold coffee between them, she waddled her way there to say hello. Before she left, she gave Rachel a strange smile. "So, we're closing soon, Legacy. Have to get ready for the party. You're staying for that too, right?

"Party?" Rachel turned from Nalah to Vakarian whose mandibles twitched. "I don't think I remember getting invited to a party, Mrs. Butler."

"Nalah," The blond woman corrected her and gave Vakarian the fiercest glare she could muster. "Didn't Garrus invite you to their Christmas party?"

"Really?" Legacy faced him. "Your non-human teammates agreed to this?"

Vakarian reached for his cup and took a sip before answering. "It was Sensat's idea, actually."

She turned back to Nalah and shook her head. "I should get going then. I don't want to intrude."

Nalah pushed her down by the shoulder, back into the seat with surprising force. "Nonsense! Stay."

"I don't have any gifts for anyone, Mrs—I mean, Nalah."

"And they don't have anything for you, it's fine. Fine." One of her workers switched off they're "open" sign and bid her good night. "If you can help me in the kitchen, maybe? Garrus is supposed to help Frederic settle things here but the fool isn't back from getting the lights for the tree and the room. For a place like Omega, where you can find nearly everything from organs to oranges, it's just absurd there are no Christmas lights."

"Fredric?"

Garrus coughed. "Butler's given name."

"Sounds almost dignified."

"I know. The man barely deserves it."

Nalah gave Vakarian a look, he stared back at her with something close to apologetic. Apparently, Nalah had some clout that Rachel hadn't figured she had in the Archangel team. Resigning, Rachel sighed and nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into the kitchen.

"By the way," Rachel smiled at the other woman when she turned to look at her, frying pan in one hand, daring her to make some excuse to leave. "Do you have ingredients for a chocolate cake?"

* * *

"So," Sidonis said under his breath, eyes squinting at all the neon lights with inappropriate words and pictures like the figure of a human or asari in a provocative pose and one that said "Good time here" that Butler had put up instead of the Christmas lights because he couldn't find any. There was also some semblance of a tree—pine, Butler told Garrus earlier—but it was about three feet tall and flimsy looking, bowing to one side, and just waiting for its end. "This is Christmas."

"Correction, this is a hooker Christmas. We should shut these tacky lights and just use the ambient lights.." Mierin set herself to work, ripping off the signs and switching the café lights on. "There."

"Hey!" Butler came back in from the kitchen. "It took a while for the boss and me to set those up!"

"I have no complaints." Shrugging, Garrus moved the tables together so they could form one big one. By this time, everyone had arrived save for Weaver. "I would have sabotaged them myself but Nalah was in here a minute ago and she loved them for some reason."

"She was being nice because she thought you liked them." Melanis muttered past her drink.

"You're joking."

Melanis tipped that last of her drink down her throat. "She must have a strange view of turians."

Garrus chuckled. When Weaver walked in, unapologetic in his stride and smile, Garrus cleared his throat to get the attention of his entire team. "Just to warn all of you—uh, we have a guest. Courtesy of Nalah so, please don't aim your pistols at me."

Sensat stood from her seat on the bar, positively jumping. "Is Legacy here?"

Butler grinned. "And without her mask. Let me tell you boys, she is one—"

"I'm what?"

Butler froze midsentence, mouth wide open as Rachel snuck behind him. She had two large plates of what looked like cakes in each hand and an eyebrow arched up. "You were not about to say something the missus would disapprove of, were you?"

"Pssh. No. Legacy, haha. Of course not."

"She might need you in the kitchen, by the way. Maybe you should head there. Quickly."

"Of course, Legacy. Right away." He zoomed passed her and into the kitchen.

Garrus knew Rachel could barely contain her dark chuckle. Walking toward the table, she placed the cakes on the table and looked up at everyone in the room. Garrus noted how most of the team looked directly at her face. "The one on the right is levo."

"Um," Monteague cut in. Though even his embarrassment didn't stop him from studying her face. "Did you _bake_ these?"

She shifted her weigh on one leg and leaned back, crossing her arms. "I promise that even if it may taste horrible, it probably won't kill you. Probably." She cleared her throat. "Sorry if I'm crashing your party but—Merry Christmas."

Erash was the first to approach it but then he tilted his head. "What is it?"

"Chocolate cake," Her expression became softer when he looked at it worriedly.

"How did you make a dextro one?"

"I've developed a tolerance for dextro—my body can easily flush it out." She shrugged. "It wouldn't do if I was incapacitated at a gathering if someone poured some tupari sports drink into my glass." She shot Garrus a meaningful glance, it would make sense if her spy work had led her deep into the Hierarchy where she may be forced to eat dextro food.

"Huh, and you actually know what we'd like to eat?" Melanis came forward, teeth bared. Garrus moved partly between them, in case she decided to do something rash. His movement didn't escape them and both women looked at him: one amused and the other embarrassed.

"I've spent a fair amount of time with turian companions. A few I can count as friends for life." She kept her arms crossed. Damn, now he regretted not asking her more about it while she was being chatty. "But if it worries you, you can abstain. No one said you can't reject the gifts you receive on Christmas."

With that Erash sliced into the cake and cut himself a piece. Everyone watched him, holding their breath when he took a bite and chewed. When he paused to swallow and quickly took another bite, everyone breathed out. So it was good, at least according to Erash and it was hard for him to be pleased about anything.

Slowly, his team got their own slices, took their first bite and were all pleasantly surprised by how good it tasted. Garrus himself was tempted to take a bite but held himself in check.

Rachel, of course, took notice. "Afraid I'd kill you on Christmas day, Archangel?"

He gave her a turian equivalent of a smile. "It wouldn't be fair if I got two gifts instead of one."

Rachel eyebrows rose at this. "And what makes you think I got you a gift, Vakarian?"

"Intuition." He paused. "That and I got you something so it would be rude of you not to try."

She chuckled softly. "If you don't at least try it, I think your second-in-command might wharf your share down."

He looked at the half eaten dextro cake and the nearly finished levo version and cut himself a thin slice. Quickly, since she was watching him and he was nervous just thinking about it, he popped most of it in his mouth. His eyes closed in bliss and he hummed.

"That good, huh?"

"You could have probably made a killing selling this in Palaven. No more of this assassin thing."

"Chocolate cake is the only thing I can make. And it took me years to learn it." She gave him a small smile and the twitch of her eyes made him read her as nervous. "Cooking is not one of those gifts I have, I'm afraid."

"Why'd you learn to make cake?"

It was that look her eyes, that far away sort of look that Sensat was probably talking about a week ago. She was—as human said, looking far away—like a scene he couldn't see was unfolding before her. "It was my _Abrul_'s favourite food."

"Sorry, I think my translator just glitched. Your what?"

She turned swiftly to him, a little wide eyed as if she was caught doing something wrong. Krul was apparently nearby and heard because he walked closer to them with his hands folded across his chest.

"_Abrul _ very old language that's been outdated. Means," Krul's eyes turned to Rachel, who looked down and away. "Father, mentor, creator. It's very reverent and very warm. But mostly used now as code by Spec Ops to indicate the head of a squad." He nodded, mostly to himself it seemed. "The dots have connected now. The way you were able to fix that bomb. Did someone from the STG train you?"

"Krul, I don't think—"

"Boss, very important we don't forget who it is that we put our faith in and who we should rely on. We must not mix up the two." Krul left it unsaid but it was clear. They knew next to nothing about Legacy or Rachel. Not even her real name. But even Krul seemed to realize how sensitive the topic is because he didn't raise his voice, and save their sombre expressions, no one would be able to tell what they were speaking about. "It's important we know more about her. Leverage."

"Krul," Garrus growled and drew himself up to full height. "This isn't the time to—"

"No, not STG." She looked up at them but she drew back. "Don't ask me anymore."

"So, if not STG then something older and darker." His eyes were wide and glowing. "Connection to Dr. Solus is through this _Abrul_ too." When she stared at him, saying nothing—Krul almost took a step back at the way her fingers twitched at her sides. "I see."

"I should go." Rachel gave Garrus an apologetic smile, but there was something sharp and dangerous glinting in her eyes. When she reached out and touched his arm, she drew back as if she'd been burned. "I left your gift in the kitchen."

"Stay. I haven't given you yours yet."

"No need, Vakarian." She said in a very low voice and shrugged. She gave a nod to Erash who turned at the sudden hush of silence and Sensat who was just about to walk up to her to talk. "I need to visit the doctor anyway."

She walked briskly, so fast that Butler and Nalah didn't notice her pass them when they opened the door.

Butler face was bright. "So, what did I miss?"

* * *

"You were careless."

"I know, doctor."

"Stress is probably making you—this."

Rachel sighed when he motioned at all of her. "Yeah."

Mordin sniffed and handed her a slightly long, wrapped up box. "Lor would be very disappointed."

"Yeah." She took and studied the wrapper intently. Who knew Mordin would be in to polka dots?

"But, I think it's healthy."

"Yeah—what?" She looked up from her seat, blinking.

"Healthy for you to have peers your age. Humans are social creatures. Need more contact with other people. But, must not reveal too much about past. Could get ugly."

"Which is why I should avoid people in the first place, doctor."

"Choose people you can trust. You're good at that."

"I'd just let them down."

"You? Disappoint? Never."

She gave him a smile, though she strained not to. Then, she stared back down at her gift. "Can I open it?"

"Yes, would like to see your face when you do. Take pictures."

"Don't you dare."

He was already reaching for a camera inside one of his drawers and he pulled it out with a huge smile. "Can't make me. It's Christmas."

Rachel's smile turned into a grin. She had dashed here from the party, while Mordin had been busy adjusting his staff to the new shifts. He'd banished her into his office until he came through, her face buried in her hands and her breath shallow. Muttering to herself that someone could find out who she was, someone could find out and then she'd have to kill him because she probably wouldn't be able to stop them from revealing her secret. She wouldn't want that person to be Krul or Vakarian. She had let her guard down and for such a stupid reason—she didn't want to think of the implications of that reason, not now.

Sighing, her hands were shaking a little as she removed the atrocious yellow bow and then tore off the polka dotted wrapper to open the box. She gasped as she pulled it out. "Is this a mod for my sword?"

"Yes. Barely legal tech. Had to make it discreetly. Like it?"

"I love it." She looked at him and then closed her eyes.

"Least I could do. For the daughter of an old friend." He smiled and then dangled the gift she gave him. Also another barely legal piece of tech that would improve his experimentation work exponentially, especially with how outdated the machines were in the clinic. "And for this. Do I want to know how you got it?"

"You'd be scared."

He smiled and then gave her hand a pat. "When you meet someone great for you, your life will change. Definitely. Trust will come easier, connections not as painful. In the meantime, I can be your only friend."

She grinned and leaned down on her elbow, her head tilted. "Selfish."

"I try. Salarians don't live long. Should spend it with people I like." He opened a bottle of Thessian plum wine and its scent spread throughout the room. She remembered Liara again, how often she used to go for a drink when she had a bad day (or a really good one). It made Rachel smile.

He handed her a glass of the wine and poured himself some. "Merry Christmas," He paused. "Shepard."

She beamed back, toasting their glasses together with a clink. "Merry Christmas, Mordin."


	12. Interlude I

_"Whut, a new chapter? Salmon, you shouldn't have!"_

_Yes, a new chapter. And yes, I should. It's an interlude for a reason, though. It's not entirely plot related but it will be referenced throughout the story. Christmas day didn't exactly fit a normal chapter but it was good for some development so do read it. I thought people would be pissed if they waited for a week though and got an Interlude. (LOL, I'd be pretty pissed.) As I am leaving again for a week or so (yes, another delay). Don't expect a chapter until next, next week. _

_All in Erash's POV, told in third person limited (my favorite, as you will notice, of my invented Archangel gang personas). _

_This is dedicated to the, 112+ steady readers out there (both in ff and AO3). __You guys are the most awesome, please keep on reading._

_To ____Black____StarAura____, who makes me laugh with a review- thank you for making my day._

___And__ to__ Primordial Soul __who never fails to review and give sage advice- many, many warm and heartfelt thanks._

* * *

Interlude I: Christmas Dinner

"Oh my god, the boss is acting like someone just died." Mierin muttered sadly. Erash had chosen to give her a moment of his attention before he went back to getting more of the cake, making sure Grundan wouldn't figure out that he had finished it.

Erash was worried about his boss though and he turned all four of his eyes to the now sullen turian. His boss' eyes which had been clear and bright were now evasive: darting back and forth so as not to let the shadows settle there. His entire stance which had been relaxed was now slumped. Batarians were keen on the language of the body, even the ones of other species. Though Erash had an easier time discerning that there was no Galactic Standard on meaning of every twitch, and no, other races dp not mean to offend by the mere tilt of the head.

"Krul, what happened?" There was obvious distress in the asari's voice as Sensat put a hand on the salarian's shoulder and shook it.

In turn Krul only shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it, I'm afraid. Shouldn't have brought it up at all but the opportunity had presented itself." He cleared his throat. "Though, I have confirmed nothing. A wasted effort."

Mierin and Sensat looked like Krul must have done the most "inhumane" thing in the galaxy. But Erash only nodded, it might have been paid with a great amount of emotional expense but if Krul had deemed it necessary then it probably had to be done. Safety, maybe? Or maybe the danger Legacy poses, even if she was obviously not a hostile. Not that Krul would know that, he was just a salarian.

"Hmph. She shouldn't have been here in the first place." Melanis, who barely took much of the cake growled. Erash could tell it was mainly the dislike for the cook rather than for the cake itself. The batarian had admitted whole heartedly that he would gladly had the levo one all to himself. Shifting her gaze between all of them, Melanis squared her shoulders and headed toward the boss with the determination and stride of a soldier.

"She's going to have her heart crushed when she tells him." Erash stated.

"Erash!" Sensat half-whispered and half yelled as she took a glance at Melanis, the female turian had hand on her hip and tried her best to coax some cheer out of the boss. Instead, she managed only a half-amused chuckle and all-around confusion. Well, at least she was trying. "You don't know. Maybe the boss can come to like her."

"Don't pretend to be stupid, asari." He scoffed back, shoveling the last piece of cake into his mouth and chewing it with a vengeance. "You know the boss has no feelings for anyone, not right now."

"What are we gossiping about?" Weaver poked his head in between Mierin and Sensat. His eyes were bright and twinkling. Erash curbed the urge to poke them out of existence. "Is it how mopey the boss is now that the _very_ fine Legacy has walked out?"

"Thanks for not dirtying this, Weav." Mierin rubbed her eyes and then tipped the contents of her very strong smelling drink. Erash wasn't sure how she could stand the stuff and how she wasn't already dead drunk on the floor.

The infiltrator shrugged. "If you want to be serious, all you have to do is ask." He turned to where the boss was and Melanis. It was now a one-sided effort where the boss' had become glassy and Melanis was still trying too hard. Weaver winced. "I hope the boss let's her down easy.

"Why is everyone so sure that he won't grow to like her?" Sensat crossed her arms. "Mel is a fine girl and she suits the boss really well."

"If the boss really wanted fine and well-suited then he would have went back to Palaven and enjoyed the life of a rock star." Weaver crossed his arms, mimicking the asari's stance but rather than a pouty expression he had one eyebrow raised at her. "Instead, he's here in the end of the galaxy: Omega. Something tells me the boss likes them—exotic." He smiled. "An asari maybe, or a feisty quarian like in the romcoms."

"Or, Legacy." Erash really didn't understand why everyone's jaw dropped at that. He could only shrug that none of them saw what he saw. "She challenges boss—he thinks her his better. He seems to like that, it makes him try harder." He paused. "And he laughs a lot when she's around."

"And she could kill him in his sleep." Mierin shook her head. "I do _not_ approve of this pairing. Scratch it out."

"I dunno." Weaver's eyes sparkled. "I think Legacy and the boss would go really well together. At least before they killed each other. Hm, has a nice ring to it. Legacy and Archangel. Together: Glarch."

"I've heard my own fart sound better than that." Grundan entered into their little circle, he too glanced at the pair of turians in the other side of the room. "That's not going to end well, is it?"

"Hmph. I think they'll be fine." Sensat looked away, still pouting.

"You just want Legacy, asari." Erash rolled all four of his eyes when Sensat's blue skin darkened. "I'm all for Glarch."

"Can we change this name, please?" Mierin pleaded.

Shrugging, Weaver huffed. "It was either that or Legangel."

"Jeez, you're useless."

"Thanks, Mei."

"Oh hell," Vortash, who had probably been eavesdropping, ran into the circle and leaned heavily against Mierin and Weaver. "Shit is about to go down. Sidonis at their five."

"Fuck, quick, Krul—damage control." Weaver pushed the salarian towards the group of turians. In turn, Krul looked both confused and scared—very rare traits for the proud salarian. Then Weaver pulled him back towards the group. "Wait, Nalah is on it."

Vortash sighed. "Man, I wanted a throw down."

"Not on Christmas, Vor." Mierin hit him lightly on the shoulder. All of them stared wide eyed as Nalah, fearless and unabashed, joined the turians. Her blue eyes were attentive and her gold hair glowed against the lights. Erash liked the woman, had been endeared by her strength. Most days he wondered how Butler had managed to win her over and marry her—always thought she must have gotten the shorter end of the stick or had been tricked into it.

"All right, everyone," Butler clapped his hands together. "I think it's important that other than distributing the gifts—we should have the boss open all of his in front of us and shamelessly make fun of him for it!"

The humans gave a collective cheer and the boss groaned but didn't stop any of them as they started distributing the gifts the team had set aside when they entered. Erash had been baffled by the idea of gift giving, nothing in his home world had a similar equivalent save for the first gift given when one was born- the only gift given. He settled instead for giving them weapon and shield mods, save for the boss whom he took a great amount of time assembling something expensive and useful.

Depending on the caste, back in Khar'shan, were different gifts for one's Birth. For the rich it was usually something made of expensive ore—a platinum image of Balag, the all-seeing god or an ornate knife of plutonium. For the middle class, it was gold image of Shira, protector of the faithful or jewelry one can wear around the neck or wrist of cobalt and titanium.

For the poor, however, for the slave it was the clothes passed down from their parents. Old rags stained with mud and blood. Erash himself had received the bloodied pants of his father, who had died the day before he was born from the lashings of their master. He remembered clearly as his mother clung and sang and wept—and in their harsh and brittle tongue, had told him that this was a slave's destiny.

Fuck that, Erash thought. He knew no caste. Not when he knew he was intelligent and gifted. His master's children struggled with school but Erash stole what he could and read and learned. The broken scraps of household tools and old tech he pilfered from rubbish piles he had used to build, re-build, and then tear down to begin again. His mother feared for herself, that he was overstepping the boundaries given to them as slaves.

So he wasn't surprised when the Hegemony's henchmen came to take him away, and he saw his mother cower in the corner saying "Sorry, sorry, sorry" over the same way she had told herself that he was his father's son and a slave's son was a slave for life.

He found himself in Omega, running away from the Hegemony. Learning how easily he could kill a batarian by knowing where to hurt him. Killing other races came later and easier, but for his own kind it was child's play. Most Batarians feared for their eyes, sometimes more than death because it was in the eyes that the channel which allowed the soul to travel to the Afterlife.

"Are you afraid of blindness more than death?" Legacy had asked him once through the comm. He was assembling his gift to the boss and he asked her for her help in finding some key parts. She had generously provided him a good seller and her own discount.

But in the middle of their assembling, she had asked him, tested him—he knew she was trying to discern what kind of person he was by the answer he would give her.

He could lie, he told himself. She'd have this idea of him in her head that was false and for him that was a thrill, to know he had an edge over someone as smart as Legacy. Nonetheless, he felt that she would know and her disappointment would be a wound he would rather live without.

"If you're asking me if I'd rather die with my eyes open. Then, yes."

"Why?"

"Because," He attached the intricate part of his new tech. Watched the chips and wires piece together and churn into life. "I want to see the fucker who took my life. Burn his memory into my eyes and dig his grave in the afterlife beside me."

She made an affirmative sound, not a pleased or displeased sound. She gave nothing away in her body language through the holo and simply assumed helping him build his new piece of equipment.

Around him now though, the team moved chairs and gifts and settled their presents in front of the boss whose earlier sadness gave way to embarrassment with the way his talons were twitching on the table. Nalah pushed him down to sit (she didn't look strong but she was very, very strong. Even Grundan had winced when they had played a human game called "arm wrestling") to be the only one to open his gifts in front of them.

"Uh, why am I the only one who has to do this?"

"Because," Butler rolled his eyes. "You're the one everyone has the most gratitude and _lurve_ for. I think it's only fair that we see whether or not you like what we gave you." Then Butler's eyes narrowed and his voice deepened. "And you better like them."

"Butler," Sidonis warned. His subharmonics pinched with annoyance. The human just grinned back. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to boss."

"You're just saying that because you gave the boss something military-ish and turian. In other words, boring." Butler, or anyone wasn't expecting Sidonis's mouth to open and show a lot of sharp teeth in a form of a grin. Butler was ready to open his mouth to say something else but—

"Now, dear, let's not be so antagonistic during Christmas. Come on, sir," Nalah's hand was a light pat on the boss's shoulder, a warm and solid assurance that all was right in the galaxy so long as he listened to what she said (and Erash had no doubts that everyone believed it). "Open the one from Fredric and I first, for starters. On the right with the red ribbon."

He reached for it immediately (not without snickers about and amused whispers of Butler's first name) and proceeded to carefully peel off the layer of wrappings around the box. Everyone made a collective sound of awe at the gift.

"I heard it's hard to find anywhere else and they don't make it the same otherwise." Nalah's smile was wide. "And, Butler had said you had once complained about craving Cipritine Chocolate before."

"This is a huge box though!" Garrus exclaimed, obviously impressed with the way he looked around the gold wrapping. "And expensive." Then he coughed. "And my favorite."

"It's nothing in comparison to what you've managed to accomplish, boss. For what you've done for Nalah and I, for Omega." Butler said with a nod and strangely serious tone Erash had only heard during firefights and missions. "If a little chocolate makes you happy then by all means we'll provide."

The boss's hum from his subharmonics was all the couple needed, with his eyes flickering it was obvious he was embarrassed by Butler's honest words and he couldn't respond in kind without ruining the moment. Trust the boss to know at least that much about his surroundings in the social sphere. Then, Nalah's wide smile—both with gratitude and a hint of mischief was displayed for all to see when she said: "Don't you think it's an odd coincidence that all Legacy knows how to make is chocolate related? She told me too that even the coffee she knows the proportions to are mocha flavored."

Erash wanted to burst out laughing in triumphant glee at the faces of the people he was talking to earlier. Let them see that the wonderful Nalah also thought they went well together, even if this information just flew right by the boss' head. Though not Melanis's as she sent a glare at Nalah's general direction (she wouldn't dare spare an evil thought on the woman herself, not directly anyway).

It was no surprise how well everyone knew the boss, after that. Vortash had given him fancy arm guards that would help with the strain of the rifle if one held it for too long. Sensat and Mierin had combined their purchase and had gotten the boss a new and better set of armor in the color of his clan markings, which fit well with what Vortash had given him (the boss looked like he was about to cry, probably remembering his own family in Palaven). Krul's had been a book, a human book actually which Krul had said was full of human idioms that should stop escaping the boss all the time. Trust the salarian to give something educational. Next was Ripper's, whom everyone was expecting to give him something embarrassing but turned out to be a subscription to an extranet music store, he did it all by pointing smugly at the boss's visor and with a proud "You need your sounds updated, every once in a while."

Weaver's gift was a set of very ornate knives which the boss's stared at for a long time with wonder as apparently Weaver had sharpened and shaped them himself (who knew the idiot was surprisingly talented). Grundan, being the warmest and the most considerate of all of us bought the boss bracers for his spurs—the boss blinked at them and Grundan had muttered that he had seen the boss struggling with his injury even after all the time that's past. Everyone glared at the boss and he all but looked away to open the next gift with a quick thanks. Montaegue had given him a sniper mod, an expensive and rare mod that would increase the damage and of his rifle by at least 75%. That had everyone surprised and that he had to laugh us off because somehow everyone knew he must have spent a lot of money to get it—money he shouldn't have because how much could a vigilante make?

"I had a lot saved up from the old days." The man scratched the back of his head and smiled. "Really, boss. Don't worry about it. I know you'll put it to good use."

"Damn, bro. That's better than what you gave me." Butler whistled and the boss just looked more embarrassed and reached for the next present.

"That's from me." Melanis said softly, which never happened except when she was talking to the boss. The boss unraveled the gift slowly as it was covered poorly and it was hard to discern where to start. But Melanis had tried and her fidgeting was obvious. Erash supposed that if Glarch (shit, they needed to change the name) didn't turn out then the boss may very well end up with Melanis.

The boss, along with everyone else was confused though when he opened it to find a black cube, no larger then a turian's hand. It was shiny and clean, practically ominous in its presence until Erash himself figured out what it was and hmm-ed in approval. "A field simulator. Does that have the latest program?"

"Of course," Melanis cocked a hip to the side with her arms crossed. "Wouldn't be as effective otherwise, the rest would be considered liars next to this model."

The boss blinked rapidly as he figured out what it was well. Opening his omni-tool and linking them together, he typed down a hypothetical situation and loaded his own stats in. A holo then came out to show that he would manage a perfect headshot despite the five klick distance, wind speed, and the stampede of klixen making their way towards him from a hundred metre distance. The group laughed and Melanis managed a soft "Show-off" before punching him in the arm.

The boss picked out Erash's gift before Sidonis's and Erash felt the rush of blood as he opened it slowly. Aware that it must be some kind of delicate piece of tech (though it wasn't, couldn't be because he wanted the boss to take it with him to battle). Gasping audibly when he saw it in the box and he fished it out to put it against the light. Everyone else besides Weaver (who looked at it enviously) were confused.

"All those improvements you wanted down to your visor, sir. I figured you wouldn't anyone else to touch it so instructions and parts all there."

"Above and beyond the improvements I wanted." The boss laughed. "So, this is what you and Legacy were talking about late at night? I doubt you'd know what I wanted unless you were there at the grueling fight."

Erash shrugged. "She offered her assistance, yes. She also said that your model needed to be updated. And something about kicking your ass if she didn't show a little mercy."

The boss laughed again. "Says the one who got the head injury." Then some small flash of pain revealed itself in his eyes and he sighed. "Stupid, difficult human." He muttered while reaching for the final gift, which everyone was sure was going to be some kind of turian thing like tech or bullet mods. The boss seemed to think so even as he opened the box and looked inside—

And just stared for a second before shutting it quickly. No one got to see it because the boss turned a laughing and yet angry face towards his second-in-command. "You can't be serious."

Sidonis crossed his arms. "Oh, I am very serious, Garrus." The only one in the whole squad who called the boss by his first name, and the only one who had expressed permission although the boss had never told the group otherwise, he never corrected everyone off mission when they didn't refer to him with his given name. He was just boss to everyone else.

"What's in—"

The boss immediately put his hand over the box when Nalah tried to reach for it. She puffed her cheeks a little but even that didn't move him. "Sorry, Nalah—it's classified." He turned back to Sidonis. "I can't believe you."

"What? Everyone thought I was going to get you something boring and turian. But all of them got you all the boring stuff and I got you something you can enjoy for the next year—"

"Okay, now we really have to know what's in there." Weaver moved to swipe it but the boss was fast enough to snatch it into his arms.

"Um, as nice as it would be to show you all—I'd be embarrassed to show it in front of Nalah. If you get my meaning."

Sidonis chuckled. "Clue: it's a subscription to something fun. Plus a few copies as an extra bonus."

"Ah." Erash shook his head.

"Well, shit." Ripper got it right away and laughed. "Hope you share the blessing by giving us extra copies, boss. Preferably unopened."

"Wait, what is it?" Nalah asked again and the boss had to look away.

"Hey, how come you're embarrassed to show Nalah and not us?" Mierin glared and the boss coughed. Lifting the box above his head as Nalah had started to jump. "We're women too."

"Yeah, but Nalah is a lady—Ow! The fuck woman!" Vortash rubbed the arm she punched. "Would you stop hitting me? It's Christmas night!"

Then Nalah gasped and the room stopped. She put her hands to her mouth and began to giggle. "I get it! It's porn, isn't it?"

"Shit, Nalah just said the word porn." Montaegue breathed dramatically.

The woman in question huffed. "Of course I can say the word porn, James. I live in Omega!" There were all around snickers as Montaegue's first name. Nalah though ignored them and crossed her arms. "Tell me, is it Fornax? That stuff is vanilla. If you want the real stuff, just ask."

"God, she is Butler's wife!" Weaver wept in his hands and Butler rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing. Maybe now Erash could accept why she and "Fredric" married after all.

Nalah though squeaked an "Oh!" before she ran for the kitchen. All eyes were on her when she came back with another gift that she carried with relative ease despite the fact that it was likely to be in a weapon case. "From Legacy. I think you should open it! I really wanna know what she gave you."

Garrus laughed as she set it down heavily against the table. They were all sure it was a weapon by the way it was wrapped and by how heavy it looked in it blue and silver wrapping. The boss's hand lingered on it, just resting his hand there as his eyes glowed in anticipation and his visor worked on trying to solve its mysteries without having to unwrap it. He plucked the card that was there and read it aloud: "To Vakarian: don't try to guess. It's a prototype. Schematics were from a mutual friend."

That's when the boss couldn't hold on to his excitement and had to tear it open. There wasn't any of the earlier softness or the grace he used to open the other gifts. He needed to know what was inside. Erash knew the boss had been itching for the new M-97 Viper or the M-29 Incisor but no one in the group had the credits for those and the boss knew it. He'd waited for the prices to go down and that he would win the bid he had for a secondhand one. When he clicked the case open though, the gun that was there made even Erash take a step back.

"Boss, that gun looks way better than the one you put a bid for in the market."

The boss laughed, picking up the gift with sure hands. Its name had been engraved on the left that read, "Indra." He took one of the thermal clips it came with (at least standard sniper bullets fit in there so it wasn't too altered) and clicked it into place before looking at Butler. The man gave him the thumbs up and before anyone knew it, the boss had aimed at a row of dusty mugs displayed on a shelf and took them all out in a line of powerful and rapid bullets. The boss clicked off the thermal clip with another solid movement and smiled. "Legacy. It's like she could read my mind."

"Damn." Butler whistled. And his sentiment was felt by everyone in the café. It was a superb gun and it was being handled by a superb shot. "I have got to get me some rich friends."

"You know what it means when a girl gets a guy a gun?" Nalah's tone sounded like she was about to make a joke but it was probably because she was so giddy that her face was red and her eyes glowed.

The boss bit, though. "What?"

Nalah smirked. "She thinks hers is bigger."

"Oh god," Groans echoed all around the room and Mierin just looked up in resignation. "Please, stop trying to remind us that you're Butler's wife, Nalah!"

The boss, recovering from Nalah's confession, coughed to get the attention of his team. "Thank you. For all of this, really. You didn't have to."

"We did, boss." Grundan said without muttering. "Without you our lives right now would have been completely different, in the worst way."

"You deserve all our thanks." Sensat put a hand to her heart. "Thank you for everything, boss."

Sidonis lifted a drink and everyone followed suit when he said, "To Archangel. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" They clinked glasses, as the humans had taught them to do. There was laughter and big smiles and dirty jokes. The way Archangel should spend a gift giving holiday, and preferably every day after. Erash noted the way the boss still hung back though, looking at Legacy's gift and placed a gentle hand on it all through the evening, even mid-conversation.

Maybe, in the future Erash would talk to the boss about what he thought about Legacy. But for now, it was Christmas and it was Archangel's time. The boss didn't need those thoughts now.


	13. Chapter 11

_Hello everyone, thank you for the love you have showered on my version of Archangel's team. I realized that I don't need two weeks to get my stuff together and that I needed to post this asap. I promise there will be more of them Archangel in the future. Right now though, the plot moves on. _

_A little more of Shepard here and an idea of what she did for the Alliance (and even before then)._

_Please do R&R to let me know what you think. See you next week!_

Chapter 11

A week had past and she looked at her omni-tool for the nth time. Nothing from Vakarian, he was probably avoiding her. Nonetheless, she had spent her Betau with Mordin and felt happy to be with someone who knew her and could take care of himself if shit hit the fan.

"Shepard," Mordin had said.

"Yes, doctor?"

"Stim overuse. Catastrophic consequences. Hate seeing you overwork yourself. It is… problematic."

She sighed. "I know, doctor. But this mission required I use a few rusty skills. I'll get some decent rest afterward."

"Very well. However, will regulate dosage for you from now on. No more dipping hands into my reserves without permission. Consider your debt repaid to me then."

She sighed again. "Fine."

They clinked glasses and talked about nothing. Although Rachel knew that worried look in Mordin's eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. Really, she wasn't a child anymore.

Salarians and their need to be nosy, damn them. Not that she could blame Krul for asking. But damn him still. She could use some humor from Vakarian right about now but he had stopped his messages.

Since it wasn't Rachel's style to reach out, she didn't try to contact Vakarian either. It would probably mean he was still awkward about what happened and she didn't want him to think that he did anything wrong either. But every time she got the quad to start typing a simple status report, something always got in the way. That one time she was in one of the outposts when Blood Pack decided to show up and cause some trouble (she diffused it with a threat and showed them an example of what she would do to them if they didn't follow. They fell in line quick enough.).

Another time, right when she was about to type the first word, Mordin had called her in to help out in the clinic in exchange for another biology lesson which was immensely helpful because she didn't know much about vorcha and she wanted to get to know how to efficiently kill them with her blade as soon as possible. It was rare, late night invite and she had to jump at it (screw rest, she could do it when she was dead).

Now, she came from a tiring mission after a weeks' worth of Intel. Of being employed by Harrot ("Digusted beyond belief: I suppose you'll do, human.") who needed someone to move cargo to and from the Emporium's storage room with some efficiency and without Harrot leaving the kiosk unattended. She was pretending to be a shivering, tiny human with blonde hair and doe brown eyes whom she named Julie Mayfield. Whose resume read she had been an orphan and had worked a few jobs spinning around poles in Afterlife's VIP section and whose rent just skyrocketed high enough that she needed a day job just to get by.

Sure, Julie got groped when she left the counter at times but no harm done that she couldn't deflect saucily (Julie was a dancer, she knew how to wiggle her way out—knew it all her life—all other aspects of her life, however, made her shiver) or that Harrot himself didn't intervene (at least he didn't permit this sort of behavior at his stall).

And the vorcha were important customers, back door customers however as Harrot didn't allow them near his kiosk but he charged them exuberantly for cheap products beyond second hand. Julie Mayfield was there in every transaction, dumb and inattentive, tripping over her feet as she sometimes did that got Harrot to narrate that he was "yelling vehemently." But Legacy cataloged all she heard behind the stupid glassy eyes of Julie, all the places Vorcha ventured in Omega, all the people whom they would meet and where. When Julie left her and Legacy came back, she tagged all the locations in a map at home and came up with 30 different hovel locations for vorcha—all of which she was sure Aria had no censure of (which she should, despite her distaste for the species).

They were relatively close to each other, Rachel noted, and so she knew that wherever their new meeting location was would not be far from places streets they claimed as their own. She visited these locations, studied them as a shadow would. A human would stand out near vorcha but when she was nobody then nobody noticed she was there.

Vorcha: they seemed to be crawling everywhere but this wasn't true. They were too noticeable anywhere near relatively expensive wards: battered out and spat at. And a congregation of them would be noticed the same way an anthill built a mound on short, even grass. They needed to go somewhere their numbers could gather without suspicion and where their presence would only be sniffed at and ignored.

Tracking down the vorcha had been—foul, to say the least. She had made her way into a warehouse at the Fumi District—whose lowtown areas had been vorcha infested, a location she had deduced after several weeks of running around and ignoring Aria (she had disable the tracking and comm systems while she was at her hunts). She watched like a Citadel duct rat, hiding and undercover with a mask and indistinct armor. She watched as they gathered and snarled and hissed at each other.

Before them stood a leader, no different to Rachel as she studied him carefully: nothing on the face or eyes that would have made him stand out, but compared to any other vorcha she did see that his weapons had a lot of modded beyond compare and more expensive than the mere butter knives everyone else was wielding. This, she thought, must be whom the vorchas at Harrot referred to as _Griog_e, or leader.

Rachel had to roll her eyes at their choice, strength based on tools was no strength at all—Lor had never said that but he implied it with everything he taught her, in every way he drilled her to be better, smarter, faster.

After a while, however, a pair of aliens showed up. The stuff of nightmares, conventional households would think. But they were beings she's encountered only once before, fleeting and circumstantial in a mission back at the Citadel. Collectors. She would probably have to save pictures of them to confirm but everything in her gut boiled down to that certainty. That the vorcha and the Collectors were congregating: that was all she needed to know. She listened and recorded as the _Grioge_ said a lot of political nonsense, their plan to take over Omega in very general terms. They were probably congregating more to keep the fires of hate for all other races from dying, right before the Collectors would instruct to them what they could do to get rid of everyone, humans, especially.

"Hm, this is more serious than we originally thought." They were now in the krogan's private apartment in the uptown area of Kenzo, as Legacy visiting the Patriarch too often in Afterlife would make Aria suspicious. Patriarch had his hands at his sides as he sat on the couch and she stood in front of him, leaning back on one leg. He looked up at her with sage and tame eyes: strange on a korgan, Rachel thought, but fitting at the same time. "Aria never cared much for these things but the vorcha can be frightening. We see their brutal effectiveness in the Blood Pack every day."

"The implications too." She nodded at the krogan. Their business relationship had transcended, somewhat. She found him interesting, talked too much sometimes but nonetheless, she could see the old fire Aria had tried to snuff out when she kept him as a pet. Nonetheless, he held himself as respectably as he could, given his circumstance. "Collector involvement makes this the stuff of nightmares."

"Yes, Aria hates them on Omega. She will want to know." He nodded. "I'm guessing you want something from me after all this?"

She smiled. "I know what equal exchange means. When I've done a few more jobs for you, Patriarch. Then we can talk about how you can help me."

"Huh." He leaned back, eyes now sharp. More krogan-like in its ferocity that she grinned back. "For Legacy's lackey, you've got some quad. What makes you think I'll help you?"

"It involves leaving Omega for an extended period of time. I'm sure you've resented my place at Aria's side. You can help me get where I need to go."

He bristled at that and huffed, dismissing her with a card of credits and the flicking of his hands towards the door without a single word.

It was good to be heading to the apartment now. Hers was at the uptown of Gozu called Zeta, part commercial and expensive. Nonetheless, it was cleaner than most part of Omega and had enough humans in it that she didn't stand out.

Now, nothing could stop her from finally sending that status report to Vakarian. And she didn't want to make any more excuses by acting like a baby. There were dangers if her secrets were revealed, she knew. She'd seen it firsthand and had done it firsthand. But Mordin said that she should trust her instincts, and her instincts told her that Vakarian wouldn't betray her if she had to tell him: even just some of it, just so the tension would ease away. This was her resolve, now. She would send him a message, tell him her status report—and ask if they could meet up and see how it went.

She knew the price she would have to pay if those instincts were wrong though. And shit, the mere thought made her hands shake as she reactivated her omni-tool to start a message.

"That wasn't your fault, Shepard." She remembered Sara of the Dominion. Her name had been stripped from her like the other seven people who had accepted their posts. It was short for Saragael, the name they gave to the team's tech expert. "You wouldn't think that she would do that to you. None of us did."

"But she was just a child," When Rachel was still Shepard she had buried her head in her hands and sobbed. "She wouldn't know better."

"We're with you, Commander," Sara put her hand on her shoulder. "Whatever you decide, we're with you."

That decision was clear, the Dominion was gone and all her friends—people she considered to be family and more, were all over the place. Now Rachel was alone. Steadily making her way up her apartment as her fingers typed down a message she intended to send to Vakarian.

When she got to her floor, however, she heard the distinct white noise from tech and paused. She knew there wasn't supposed to be that kind of noise here. She took a tentative step forward when she cussed at the distinct blipping of a mine.

She tumbled down the stairs, protecting her head as mine after mine tore down her entire floor. As a result, her omni-tool fizzled and died at the impact of the explosion. She wouldn't have any access to her tech skills now and she cussed in her thoughts.

No time to dust off, she rolled and got on her all fours before pushing herself off the ground and flipping down two floors below her own. Making her way to the end of the hall, she broke through the windows there to make it down the emergency staircase.

Where a man, masked behind his helmet and wearing Alliance colors of blue and grey, was standing casually—obviously waiting for her. She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Hello, Shepard."

His blade came at her and she flipped back to dodge. "Quicker than I thought. This chase will be interesting. He said he wanted you back alive but I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I couldn't kill _the _Shepard."

She studied his armor quickly and she saw the distinctive insignia in the predominantly black armor and hissed. A white sword within a sphere, an insignia that didn't mean much too many people—those who found out were already dead. Normally, it wouldn't be worn during missions and only during diplomatic occasions but maybe in a way, meeting her had its own form of diplomacy "What's your position?"

"I am Hashmal, the name they didn't even grant you. The head of the Dominion." He brought out his arc pistol and it charged threateningly when he held the trigger. "Let's play."

He was probably expecting her to flip back and evade the bullet, but she remembered how surprised she was when Vakarian charged at her, leg broken, and she pushed off the ground. Ramming into the startled assassin, they both fell several stories high and into one of the better built shops down below that broke their fall.

Rachel rolled out quickly, dodging past people and turning corners as the explosion had drawn a crowd towards the apartment. The assassin was right behind her, gun in hand, drawing so much attention that she wanted to roll her eyes. Sloppy, just who was teaching the Dominion now? He signaled at someone beside him and another one with the insignia came out from hiding on her left, likely to be Zadkiel, the name for the lieutenant of the squad.

When she rounded one corner, breaking sight from her pursuer, she felt a chill behind her. Sure enough, someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the darkness.

* * *

Garrus was in the middle of typing down a message to Tali, avoiding the message he really wanted to type down and the person he really wanted to send it to. When he'd stop to wait for her reply his talons would reach for the case of his new sniper rifle.

For the first time, he damned his own teammate for making this awkward for him. How do you apologize for someone else when you barely know how to do it yourself? Damn Krul, he thought over and over as he stared up at the light. There was also that little about her past that he could have waited till she was willing enough to tell him. Instead, he had all these unanswered questions. Rachel never pried about anything from his past, it just wasn't fair.

He was replying to another message of Tali's: asking where he was and if he was doing anything stupid, like the bosh'tet he apparently was when Melanis walked into the dorms, hand resting on one hip.

"Messaging your Legacy?"

He looked up from his omni-tool, wary of her angry tone. "My Legacy?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, something Garrus had never seen her do. "Aren't the two of you—together?"

He looked back, startled. "Melanis, where is all of this coming from?"

"The party was almost a week ago and I haven't heard you laugh since. And, Krul seems to be avoiding you. Just what the hell happened on Christ-mass?"

"Christmas."

"Whatever." She waved him off. "Don't change the subject. I hate it when you do that."

He stopped himself from saying something to upset her and motioned her to sit in front of him. He waited for her to take that seat before he closed his omni-tool. "So what is this really about?"

"What kind of relationship do you have with Legacy?" She asked, leaning back against the couch.

"We're friends—at least, I think we are. Look, it's complicated. But not complicated in the way you think. We knew each other before I came to Omega, we had—have—mutual friends." He had been trying to figure out who gave Legacy Indra's schematics. The most likely would have been Liara, but when he tried her extranet address again he got no reply. Again.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

He stared hard at her. "Is that even possible?"

"Why? Do you _want_ it to be possible? Sidonis's little porn subscription giving you ideas?"

"You're making this very difficult, Melanis." He paused and sighed. "What is it that you really want to say?"

"Fine." She bit out. "I like you, boss. In that way. And I just want to know that I have a shot and you're not into—aliens."

"Oh, okay that's—what?" His hand left his new sniper rifle as if it scalded through his talons. "Wait, where did all of this come from? You never—there wasn't any—"

"So, are you into aliens, boss?"

He tried replaying all their past encounters. Turians usually gave specific cues when they were interested, it's not like beating around the bush helped anyone. Sometimes, aggression turned into lust (that was another story, a very nice story about reach and flexibility) but still it was fairly obvious. As far as he knew, Melanis hadn't done or said the usual things males of his kind would see as an invitation to be intimate. No excessive hip movement, no purring in her sub-vocals when they spoke, no outward aggression due to hormones.

Nothing. Nothing he noticed, anyway. But he remembered Christmas and the way the rest of the team stood to one side. Spirits, they all probably knew.

Though Melanis would be what his kind would consider pretty, she had the strong attitude that would appeal to most. Supportive waist, well-groomed. She was also very young for a turian outside of the homeworld, just 28 she told him when they were talking once and most turian women were still doing their service at this time. She could probably get anyone who was willing to look past the lack of colony markings. Garrus just didn't think she had him in mind.

"Melanis," He started softly. "Archangel, this team and this job—it doesn't have room for this kind of—relationship. And to answer your questions, no I'm not into aliens. And no, Legacy and I aren't together. But—that doesn't mean I want a relationship at all. Not at this time."

"Boss," Her voice wavered but she nodded strongly. "I understand. I'm—sorry I pried about Legacy. It's just that—you don't even let any of us close but when it comes to her, how easily she wormed her way into your heart—I'm sorry for the human expression. You obviously haven't read the book Krul gave you." She laughed at his confused look but she looked away. Her fingers were twitching and her sharp talons tapping against her lap. "You'd probably do anything she asked you to."

"Not true. This team is more important to me than Legacy." Commander Alenko came to mind, a solid reminder of why he was in Omega. "My purpose here and my only purpose now is to liberate Omega. Melanis, I doubt I could give this life up for much."

"You gave me a purpose here too, boss. My family, the orphanage here in Omega, all of them were killed during a gang skirmish." She closed her eyes, an obvious sound of pain in her subharmonics. "But you're my new family now, boss. I don't know if I can give you up to some other girl, and watch you run off with her."

He sighed. "I'm sorry for this, Melanis."

"It's all right." She stood. "Glad I told you. Now Sensat can stop giving me that knowing look."

"You told Sensat?"

"No, she found out. As always."

"Ah, I keep forgetting how scary she is. Asari and their mind reading."

Melanis's tone was a light one. "No. Sensat is just that kind of special."

"Uh, while we're on the topic," He scratched his chin. "About you and Sidonis—"

"I'd kill the fucker but he's your friend. So unless you gave me the signal, I won't hurt him. Much." Her eyes narrowed, she looked even more predatory than he'd ever realized she could. Even more than the night they met. "Boss, contrary to the way I refer to them as aliens, I think humans are a great species, you know? They took care of me. Most of the kids in the orphanage were human too. I—obviously couldn't get my colony markings because I don't know who my real parents are. But the humans who took care me didn't judge me for my face or what wasn't on it."

"Should I tell Sidonis to lay off then?"

"No, it gives me a reason to insult him. He's not as quick on the barbs like you, boss."

"He does lack that flair for words."

"Slow, boss. He's just plain slow."

She made her way out the dorm with a small nod and a weak smile. But not without a touch on his shoulder that lingered a few seconds too long and Garrus let out a breath when she was finally out the door. Leaning back against the couch, his muscles uncoiled with the released tension. His hand reached for the Indra again and he thought he probably dodged the biggest ass bullet he'd encountered yet.

When his omni-tool blipped at the sound of a message, he opened it, expecting an admonition from Tali for typing too slowly when instead it was a message from someone he least expected.

Aria wanted him at Afterlife. _Now._

* * *

"I realize that you and Legacy are close—she does you all these little favors and that's cute. I gave her a few weeks to calm down but this has become a nuisance. Tell her to answer her omni-tool or there will be consequences."

Aria looked even angrier than Garrus had ever known her to be. He would have been affected otherwise but instead he looked at her, gave her the most bored face he could muster. "I haven't spoken to her since Christmas and that was a week ago. Why don't you try sending her two hookers?"

She stood from her seat and that was intimidating. Garrus still didn't move and didn't flinch. "Archangel, let me be clear. As long as that girl is standing on Omega, she's mine. And whatever part of her she shares with you, will only be a speck in comparison to all the times she's shared with me."

"Why does everyone think we're—Look, you're worried. I understand. But, Aria, I really haven't seen her for that long. And if she isn't talking to you then—"

"She blew up her apartment. I gave her that one too."

He stepped back. "What?"

"This isn't the first time I've pissed the girl off, Archangel. We've done some mean things to each other. Nasty things. I've enjoyed them all, immensely, which is why she's still alive. But we still manage to keep in contact. But she has a history that would make me cautious and if she's somewhere, bleeding or suffering, then Omega will strike. But now I can't even get to her omni-tool and enough is enough.

"Do you know where she is?"

"No," His eyes narrowed. "But I want to help you find out."


	14. Chapter 12

_Mad love for all of you. 140+ readers (adding AO3 and ff together), I know you're out there.** Drop a word in.** Especially because this chapter and the next are very closely linked. That's right, I split one hell of a long chapter into two parts. This one has some action (little, very little) but the next one has the answer to a lot of unresolved things. (i.e. What is the Dominion, precisely? Who is Lor?) Want the chapter early? _

_Let me know. Hope this chapter finds you well._

_Also, references to the Omega DLC and Mass Effect: Retribution (a novel, I haven't read it either- but the reference here is more subtle). Nonetheless, if you know about neither you may look them up._

Chapter 12

The drop into the tunnels was a dark and long one, only the awareness of Legacy's limbs—the reflex of the body to relax, allowed her to land on her feet, pulling away from the grip of three digits—talons, Legacy noted, turian—friend or foe? A foe would have killed her, but a friend usually didn't pull other friends into dark tunnels—unless they knew how good you were fighting in them.

Practiced fingers reached for the Carnifex at her side and aimed—

Up, at Zadkiel as he fell in after them. He managed to predict that Legacy would be ready for him and he twisted in mid-air, the bullet barely grazing his shield. Once he landed on the ground, he drew his own gun and aimed it at her. Habit had her reaching for her omni-tool to activate a Cryo Blast but she cursed as the tech sputtered in retaliation and she dodge rolled a rain of bullets and into the cover of shadows; not knowing where to aim, he shot blindly, unable to see her low crouch and the speed of her feet as she moved away from the general direction of his bullets.

He seemed to realized she was moving away and motioned to pursue, squinting against the darkness, his run was broken by a biotic barrier that appeared in front of him. He cussed, a dual voice—not human then, Legacy noted, but drell: but what was a drell doing in the new Dominion? — activating his own biotics, he used a Pull at the other figure that had dragged Legacy into the tunnels. The turian growled, resisting with dark energy, in the process illuminating a familiar face that Legacy had known in her youth. The turian broke free and used that chance to Pull to return the cover of the tunnels above them, the light dimmed to nearly nothing save the glow of blues and purples of their biotics.

Legacy resisted the elation, the laughter as she came out from her cover, still cloaked by the lack of light, this time with her sword drawn and burning in one hand and the side arm in another as she dwindled his powerful barrier with two shots aimed at the back of his head. The bullets brought it down quickly and the drell turned back to her with his hands glowing with dark energy—

Only to have his space invaded by Legacy herself, her gun against his gut as she fired twice and he slumped against her, bleeding and dead and she laid him on the floor just as swiftly before shooting his omni-tool, killing whatever signal it might give off to the new Dominion. She aimed her sword at the turian biotic in front of her, burning between them as Legacy studied her face in its light.

"Just like old times, Kandros?"

Legacy remembered the silver landscape of Palaven, the reflected light from Menae and Nanus that glinted against the sharp end of her blade. Commander Shepard then and the seven men who stood behind her, ready to draw their own weapons at her signal. Standing before them was another group, steel sharp like her blade's edge—blue biotics flickering and dancing around them. The Cabal, a more known reputation than the Dominion and a group larger only by half but just as deadly and just as quiet—they didn't like each other at first but duties from the respective governments told them to put all the history and distrust aside for the cause. After all, the Normandy had been in the works despite the First Contact War. What Shepard found, however, was that the Dominion had more in common with the Cabal than they did with their own race— but now, wasn't the time for fond memories.

The emergence of the names of old friends with completely new faces was worrying. There was something off about the new Dominion. As much as Shepard, as Legacy was able to work well with aliens. The Alliance would never employ a drell to do its dirty work, least of all give him a name and the title of operative. Her own Zadkiel had been a recon scout with the quickest feet she'd ever trained and was nowhere near a biotic and all of the Dominion, her Dominion, had been human.

But that was then, and this was now. Kandros—old and dear, ally and friend, chuckled with her arms crossed and carried herself with ease despite the sword burning between them. "You didn't struggle. How did you know it was me?"

"Please. Not a lot of people can sneak up behind me and carry me in here. Aria's tunnels. Only a handful of people know how to navigate through them. Myself included. You're the only other one I know besides the brat and Aria herself." Rachel sighed at the dignified figure of the female turian before her, the red colony markings—though barely visible in the dark— would have given her away. "I'm glad you didn't leave Omega like you threatened to, Nyreen. I've been looking for you. Besides, Aria needs a few pains in the ass."

"I was really just on my way to see you after tearing down Omega for your apartment. Timing." Nyreen Kandros chuckled again. "And I hear you've been doing a fair job of pissing Aria off, Lorraine. Is it still Lorraine? Alice?"

"Legacy. Now that I'm working for our favorite asari." She snapped her sword back in its sheath at Kandros's hand signal to move out.

"Legacy? You're Legacy? Aria and her kinks." She shook her head. The pair walked deeper inside the tunnels, a labyrinth that would lead them straight under Afterlife if the kept walking westward. "You didn't seem like the type to just bend over backwards for her."

"You didn't look it either but you still did it." She paused. "Tell me, did you decide not to leave because of Aria or because of princess Liselle?"

If turians could blush, Nyreen probably would have. Instead, she cleared her throat noisily. "Liselle isn't at Omega at the moment and she doesn't know I'm around." She cleared her throat again, obviously she didn't want to talk about this and Legacy smirked. "Just tell me. I know you weren't exactly a paragon of goodness but you had your own creed. You worked for no one, even when you were part of the Dominion. Alliance colors be damned."

"Yeah. Remember all the times you were being a sanctimonious compromiser?"

"Yeah, I also remember some hardass bitch who killed everything and didn't listen to good sense." Legacy didn't see it but she knew Kandros had just rolled her eyes. "What's really going on?"

"Fine. I'm trying to be good and thinking about the galaxy for once."

"I said tell me the truth, not tell me the impossible."

Rachel huffed. "Fine. I'm repaying a debt, a damn heavy one. He's been out of commission, this friend, so until he comes back I have to pick up the slack."

"What? So, you're—how do you humans put it? Making deals with devils to repay someone?"

"Got it one, Nyreen. You were always the smart one."

She chuckled, her talons scraping the tunnels inner walls. Rachel could tell she'd been here a long time, her skin and plates seemed too pale under the light minutes before, and her eyes were closed, relying on just her memory and her hearing to get them through. "Must be one heavy debt."

Legacy nodded, even if Nyreen probably didn't see it. The turian probably already knew that she had agreed though, they knew each other too well and they let the silence accompany them through the tunnels. Studying the vague outline of the turian in front of her, she remembered all the missions they went through together when it was Shepard taking point and Nyreen questioning her morals.

When Nyreen was part of the Cabal, she was nothing more than a lieutenant despite years of loyal service, a real waste to for talent like hers. Shepard had often talked to her instead of their own commanding officer to share Intel and discuss tactics—the rest of the Cabal felt the same about Nyreen. Of course, their own commander hadn't liked this special treatment and threatened to charge Nyreen with insubordination and even treason. And although she knew Kandros's disapproved of the way Shepard had dealt with the problem (cloaks did what cloaks did) and the fact that she dealt with it—no one complained when Kandros had taken her rightful place.

Roughly, Nyreen went rogue around the same time the Dominion disbanded. Being reunited at Omega about a year after, pitted against each other as enemies by Aria—that was just a few years ago. Legacy, Lorraine at that time, had made herself the thorn (or huge as rifle, Lorraine was a real menace) on Aria's side. Then again, even that rivalry didn't last long the moment Lorraine discovered it was Nyreen and the princess brat chasing her around. And the fact that Aria turned out to be a pretty fun bitch past the violence and the attitude and the "Don't fuck with Aria." speech she gave all the newcomers.

Lorraine had walked all over that rule, even after they had become friends. Good times.

A little more than a year later, however, Kandros and Aria had a falling out and they went their separate ways. At that time, her name had been changed to Alice and had moved on to Illium, working with an old drell friend, Amos. Aria didn't seem fazed when she had relayed the news but Rachel had regretted not being able to contact Nyreen again.

Nyreen cleared her throat again. "That doesn't sound like the best idea. They might rather shoot you than the enemy."

"Have a little faith, Cabal. I'm more likely to shoot them before they could."

"There is that, Dominion." Her subharmonics was laced with amusement. "You should go to Palaven. I know the brass there owes the Shepard a few favors. And I know you were on speaking terms with Councilor Sparatus and the Lentinus family, to name a few."

"I've been rogue for years. I don't think they'd even hear what I have to say." She sighed. "And if I contact them and they contact the Alliance—I'd hate to have my house littered with mines again."

"It could be worse. They could be chasing you in dark tunnels."

"Nyreen, I hate your jokes." Legacy replied but laughed anyway. "But, that's the reason why I was looking for you. Think you can get in contact with the Cabal for me?"

"The Cabal? Did you forget I went rogue too?"

"Yeah, but you were the Commander at one point. Your men still respect you. Turian loyalty and all."

"Still. I all but deserted them it could get—ugly." Nyreen mandibles clicked together. "Legacy, I don't know what kind of favor you owe someone but this would be huge for me. You'd have to buy me drinks for the rest of my life."

"Doable."

"Spirits, of course you're swimming in credits. Freelance shadow or vigilante or whatever you called it, still a criminal—have I mentioned that we should talk about your career options?" She heard the clicking of Kandros's mandibles again. "What do you want me to tell them?"

"I'll send you the info as soon as I replace my omni-tool. But in a nutshell: I need an indirect route to get the Hierarchy to listen to the claims about the Reapers—"

"They're real?"

"As real as you and me, Kandros. And a threat to everyone. The Hierarchy more than anyone may have a good chance at holding the line. If the Cabal can stumble into some sensitive information—"

"And they tell the Hierarchy, they could get to preparing for war and they don't even need to know you were involved. Hah, I like it even if we would be lying."

"Not lying, the threat really exists." Rachel replied sternly. "But maybe manipulating the location of evidence wouldn't appeal to your better nature, Kandros, yes."

"So, not so good after all, Legacy?"

"Never good at all, Nyreen." Rachel chuckled. "But that's for later."

"Right," Kandros sighed, talons tapping against the walls of the tunnels. "This new Dominion is a little slow. I suppose they've given up with figuring out this labyrinth."

"Likely just waiting around?"

"Lazy. Obviously, but the drell was something. The way you took him out so fast though—remind me not to piss you off."

"Couldn't have done it without you."

"Lies."

"Fine. I could have, but maybe just a few seconds slower." Rachel smiled then sobered. "The whole new Dominion is probably in Omega. If we break surface, I'm almost sure there's going to be at least one operative at entry points to Afterlife—they probably figured out my connection to Aria if they managed to find the apartment."

"We could stick to the tunnel openings and wait for them to notice it's off. Lure them in and jump them when they get close enough. You always liked guerilla warfare tactics."

"That would take centuries we both don't have—they don't seem very bright. Who waits by the fire exits without a fail safe? Besides, you can't break the surface for me." Rachel spun her around to face her. Dark green eyes met lighter ones. "I know you don't want Aria to know you're still here, do you? You were probably skulking around trying to figure out a way to see me without being noticed."

That didn't even make Nyreen pause. "There's no way I'd abandon a friend just because me and an asari aren't on speaking terms."

"I know she isn't just any asari to you, Kandros." Rachel sighed. "Listen, I need you here as well. Track my path. They may seem dumb but one of them might decide to drop in from where we entered. Get rid of them for me and smash their omni-tools. There are sure to be tracking devices there. Dispose of the lieutenant's body too while you're at it."

"And what? I'll leave you to fend for yourself?"

"There are going to be at least a handful of them." She paused, contemplating it. "There are about three entry points to Afterlife and since they're a predictable mess they'll be at least an operative in every one. The moment I alert one way, I'm sure the others will leave their posts to pursue like a bunch of pyjaks."

Nyreen nodded. "They do seem strangely eager."

"This new Dominion is off. I haven't heard from my contacts in the Alliance about them which means they're probably borrowing the name or they're not telling my contacts anything about it—highly improbable. They're likely to be working for one of the heads that want mine and deviated to gain a name."

"Hired thugs." Nyreen muttered. She motioned Rachel to press forward and they both began walking again, they turned a few corners and ducked under a hidden passage, crouching as they crossed to the other side. They were approaching light which meant they were close to a tunnel opening. "This will lead you close to an entry point, I'm sure you remember."

"Right. Be careful down here, Nyreen. Try not to blow them up: quick and quiet, understand?"

"Don't worry. They're completely artless, as you used to say." Nyreen reached forward, holding her inner arm near the elbow. Right when Rachel was about to pull away the female turian pulled her closer and they crashed into a hug. It only took a few seconds to register that Kandros was a friend, who would not hurt her, even if her fingers twitched to push her away. "It was good to see you, my friend. Even if it was because a bunch of bastards are trying to kill you."

"It was nice to finally see you after so long, Nyreen." The turian smelled like iron from the rusty pipes, and Rachel was sure she didn't exactly smell like roses either but this sudden closeness made her feel nervous and giddy all at once so she laughed to disperse it. "What did they use to say in the Cabal before a mission?"

Nyreen eased away, a predatory grin with a lot of teeth on her face. "Happy hunting."

* * *

Omega had been home for a year, some time ago when she left the Alliance. She'd met good people and killed bad ones. All this proved was that she knew Omega almost as well as Aria did. Her short few months here just reacquainted her with the places she already knew. Omega was unchanging, persisting, and dark like its queen.

Omega wouldn't bend to just any outsider, Rachel knew. So even without her tactical cloak it was easy to slip into the hiding places of the predictable and the artless of the new Dominion. The two of them were kneeling and waiting behind a dumpster in an alleyway: a human and a batarian, both female. They were both watching the same direction, but one was ahead of the other. A tactical oversight, even if batarians had four eyes, one Rachel was thankful for when she slid her blade through the first girl's throat: quick and quiet as she insisted. And she twisted the neck of the batarian until it snapped. Grabbing their omni-tools, she destroyed one and then activated a distress signal with the other one for a short while, just enough so the rest of the new Dominion would know what was up before she destroyed that one too.

What had Lor said about unorganized units and superior numbers? She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, closing her eyes and taking in as much of the sounds as she possibly could. From where she stood, she was close enough to feel the bass of Afterlife, close as she was to the heart of Omega, which meant the new Dominion would be there soon. Alley reeked with the smell coming from the dumpster and the blood from the drell and the human on her armor and the floor.

"Sit and wait. They're coming for you." Lor smiled. "And just the best way they possibly can, as humans like to say: like moths to a flame."

She drew her blade, activating its new tech mod through the handle so that it extended into a longer sword: just one of the many surprise features other than the fire. She whispered her mantra, her one prayer, before the first of the Dominion arrived.

* * *

Garrus couldn't drag in the whole of Archangel to the special operation but he did take all the ones who had thought of Rachel with something close to warmth. Obviously, Erash and Sensat were on board. Weaver, who volunteered when he heard of the meeting and Butler who said Nalah would kill him if he didn't help out. Krul nodded, probably guilty over what happened during Christmas and that this was a good way to apologize to both of them at once.

He stationed them, save Erash who stayed by his computers and kept the comm channels online, near entry points to Afterlife as surveillance. If he were Rachel, he would head to the place where he could get the most help (and actually be heard) and for her that would be either the doctor or Aria. Solus was the least likely since there were too many injured people in the vicinity who would slow Legacy down (Garrus himself would avoid it because of the civilians and the likelihood of casualties), so Garrus put all his money down on Aria. True enough, as he was making the asari's floor his temporary base of operations, Aria received an anonymous tip less than an hour ago that Legacy was about to break open from the tunnels and that there were enemies stationed at the entry points to Afterlife.

"Should we believe it?"

Aria looked at the message. Garrus was sure the air around them had dropped several degrees over the few seconds she was thinking about it. "Yes. I think I know exactly who sent this information."

"And you trust it?"

"No, but I'm not sending my men. I'm sending you. Try not to disappoint me, Archangel." She glared at him and he took that as a cue to exit.

Sure enough, each of his team members had encountered operatives, a grand total of five by adding all three points, two of which came with a pair and one was solo.

"Should we strike?" Weaver's whisper came through the comm. Out of his whole team, Weaver was the one whose skillset came close to Legacy's. He understood more than anybody the sort of numbers she'd have to deal with if they left these guys alive.

"We don't know what Legacy wants to do with them. Let's wait." Garrus cocked his Mantis. He'd taken the higher ground, stationed near the entry point he felt would give Legacy the best advantage and in turn make it the path she would most likely take if she were on her way to Afterlife. It was a narrow alleyway with two operatives waiting where it was closest to Afterlife. What made it attractive, however, was that it was also connected to an abandoned building with a courtyard. Garrus had situated himself on the fourth floor, overlooking the alleyway and the courtyard, waiting.

When he saw a shadow flicker, he thought it was just his imagination. But when the two operatives were down, one choking on her blood and the other instantly dead with her head twisted in an abnormal angle. A new the figure standing in the alley now, toying with one of their omni-tools before triggering it to self-destruct, was Legacy. Her mask was up as well and her eyes, when he looked into his scope, were a dark green. Through his visor, she was uninjured and her heart beat normal. Despite the situation, he had to look away and sigh in relief at the sight of her, in perfect health and waiting for her enemies, their enemies.

It was unlikely that she didn't know he was there, and just as he stared at her through his scope she stared back, mask in place. He felt his own pulse, heard it through his ears as the adrenaline pumped through him.

"Legacy sighted team." His voice cracked through the comm.

"They've begun to move, boss." Sensat whispered through her comm. He can imagine her biotics just flared then. "Likely heading to your location."

"Amateurs. They're running to the slaughter. Head to your second positions. Tell me if anything new comes up." Garrus heard the round of "ayes" and looked through his scope and into an all kill zone.

Legacy had run so that they ended up in the courtyard. First, she took one down with her sword slashing through the shield and tearing flesh. The weapon glowed with new tech and Garrus noticed it was longer and deadlier than ever before. The other pursuer who finally decided to pull out his gun got beat to it when she pulled out her sidearm and the enemy took one bullet to the head at near-point blank range. Quickly, she fired bullets at their omni-tools and they fizzled and died.

It would be a while for his team to arrive and he chuckled that they might miss all the action. Better than her reputation, Legacy worked fast and efficiently alone.

When the last three operatives arrived they didn't charge at her right away, instead one stood back while two others stood in front of him. The two were armed, submachine guns drawn and they'd probably shoot before Legacy could move fast enough. But she didn't seem at all fazed, standing there with a sword in her hand. From where he could see her, she could only see the back of her head.

"Is this all you add up to?" Her voice echoed through the courtyard. "Did the Alliance really send you or just one man? I'll take you in alive, Hashmal. Because torturing you will best part of my week."

When the one of the two in front fired with the provocation, Legacy flipped beautifully away, bullets barely grazing her shield. No wonder she wasn't worried, Garrus thought, the woman could dodge bullets.

Still in a crouch her finger pulled the trigger of her pistol and fired at the neck and at his head. As he was going down, her arm moved to aim at the next man but she got her gun knocked out of her hand. He had been a better fighter than the last, engaging her in a flurry of movement and bullets—they danced around each other like Garrus had never seen the likes of before Legacy got him, a blade through his throat and his blood on her armor and face as he fell too.

She wasn't immortal though, the last man, Hashmal, still stood there and he was ready for the other man to fall. His shotgun would take her down easily with her shields low and he yelled, "Die, Shepard!"

Garrus didn't have time to be surprised by the name. He fired a concussive round that hit him between the neck and the shoulder and he crumpled down to the ground, on his knees, before Legacy—Shepard? Alliance Shepard? Alenko's Shepard? Was that possible?—knocked him out with a punch to the face.

Garrus stood from his position and Legacy turned back and up to stare at him. Sensat's voice announced that they had just arrived through the comm and Weaver sighed because they had missed everything.

Instead of responding, Garrus looked down with his rifle still in hand. Rach—Legacy— Shepard gave him a little wave, relieved and confused, Garrus could only wave back.


	15. Chapter 13

_Boom. The review/comment count I was waiting for was reached. Reviewers/comments, more power to you!_

_See you next update._

Chapter 13

They were in a warehouse in the Kima District, one of many rusty looking storage units that no one passed. As far as Sidonis's Intel was concerned, there were usually dealings of red sand made in the area. Garrus couldn't believe he had condoned to this when the past two days had been so long.

The place was loaned to them by Aria who was unusually giving when Legacy was found. In fact, she looked almost teary eyed when Rachel entered her floor of Afterlife (but then, Garrus could have just imagined that).

Instead of a warm greeting though, she gave Rachel a curt, impersonal nod and welcomed her back. Legacy, covered in the blood of her enemies and hair windblown by all the flipping and running, nodded back, saying: "Do you have a place where it would be difficult to hear screaming?"

Aria laughed—a wide mouth, head thrown back sort of laugh. Garrus told himself that it wasn't scary and that he was scared. No. "I'll ping Archangel the coordinates. Have fun. I'll clean up the mess you did. Not as bad as the things you used to do."

"Definitely. But not better," Rachel turned back to Garrus sharply, a blank look on her face. "You're driving, Vakarian."

A demand, an order—one she had no right to give but Rachel never cared about rights. He had a barb ready for her tone but there were things he wanted to know—this was a sign that she might answer his questions. In the old days, his investigator days, he would have leapt at the chance to find out. Now, he knew better. Someone would have to pay the price for all the secrets she might reveal to him—it would be either him or her and Legacy had no qualms with it being him, if he so desired to tell them to anyone, even by accident.

She would kill him. He wouldn't make it easy but she would do it.

"Boss?" Krul's head was tilted to the side. Legacy had past his team and was leaning against the side of a sky car another turian had drove up front. There were a lot of people, the queue to Afterlife's second floor that never seemed to shrink but it seemed like all the bouncers around Legacy had teamed up to create a barrier and give out the general message that screamed: "Nothing to see here!"

"Go ahead, Krul. There are—things I have to confirm."

Krul nodded. "The difference between faith and reliance?"

"The very thin line." Garrus nodded back. "I'll meet the team in the base in a couple of hours. Tell Sidonis to get everyone together."

"Noted." Krul stole a glance at Rachel before he went to the rest of his team to relay to them the orders. It was important that Garrus showed he had forgiven Krul not only because he did but because the harmony within the team was important— plus, the stares Sensat and Erash had been giving the salarian were borderline dark.

He slid into the driver's seat with Legacy at his side and the assassin tied up and unconscious behind them; for good measure, they blindfolded the man and they stuffed his ears so he couldn't see or hear where they were. Rachel also tore off his omnitool and fried the tracking chip with Garrus's.

"What the hell happened to yours?" He asked as he started the engines and the car lifted off the ground.

She shrugged. "Took a few mines. Nothing serious."

"Spirits, Rachel. If mines aren't serious, then what is?"

They drove in silence after that. But Garrus noted the light in her eyes even with her mask firmly in place. They could have almost pretended that they hadn't spent a whole week without talking or seeing each other. Almost.

Now, however, they were in the warehouse. They sat in front of each other, two chairs face-to-face. Garrus switched off his visor and put it aside. He also deactivated his own omni-tool. "There. No recording devices. I—look, really didn't want to pry. Pasts should stay where they are."

"I know." Her hands clenched and unclenched. "I had wanted to talk to you about it, even to a small degree—but you know our luck."

"Yeah." He leaned forward. "I bet you don't see the reason why I should know, do you?"

"I do. I—we're working together. We should be able to trust each other." Her mask had been pulled down and she gave him a very tired smile. When was the last time she had a good night's sleep? "Faith and reliance, as Krul said. There is a fine line between them but we should be able to have both."

"Yeah." He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again to look at her. He had to face her directly without feeling sorry for how tired she looked. Not that he didn't look like he came out of klixen's rear end. "Anything you can tell me that won't send any of us into early graves."

Rachel sighed. "Impossible. But start with a question. And I'll tell you if I can answer it.

"All right. Just who the hell are you?"

She winced. "Some of that is classified information. You'll have to be more specific."

He motioned with his hands, tried to make them as slow and as un-predatory as possible. Inside, however, he felt distressed. "Trust me."

She winced again. Garrus wasn't sure what sort of wounds he was poking at, but they were festering well enough that they stung. Then she sighed, resigned, leaning forward on her elbows. "Vakarian, do you know the concept of a soul name?"

"A hanar's soul name?"

She nodded. "In the business of death hanar usually only hire drell, however, I was made an exception because an assassin said I was the best at my job: infiltration, the art of subterfuge. This is when I first encountered a hanar's soul name: when we completed mission after mission together for him the drell had told me that the hanar wished me to know his name." She crossed her legs, looking away for a long time but then she turned to him. Without her mask, he could easily see the half-smile. "But I have no soul name or face name. I had no name until Lor found me. So, Vakarian, you have to be more damned specific or else I can't answer."

He would have been impressed by her rhetoric if it wasn't so irritating at the same time. "Fine. Who is Shepard?"

"Shepard," She closed her eyes. "Shepard is the longest name I had. She—I—used that name when I worked for the Alliance."

He noted the way she talked about it in third person. Detachment, as if Shepard wasn't her at all. "I heard from Alenko that Shepard retired after surviving Akuze. Wait—that means you killed the Thresher Maw, on foot, by yourself?"

She opened her eyes to stare at him. Maybe he should've hid his surprise better but how many people can claim they've killed Maws on foot by themselves? "He told you about that?"

"He said they still used your vids in N-school to teach greenhorn Special Ops how to do their job. He made me watch yours over and over again. Frankly, I probably would have anyway, what you did through most of that was… inspiring."

She smiled. "Hah. Prime example of a killing machine, am I?"

"A prime example of a soldier." Garrus corrected, stern but with some warmth in the sub-vocals he didn't really mean to express. "Alenko looked up to Shepard—you were his role model. Spirits, maybe even more than Anderson and he was one of the first of the N7. But, you're saying you were still part of the Alliance marines?"

"Shepard wasn't just any marine, Vakarian. Shepard wasn't just Special Ops. Even when she—I was recruited it was due to—very special conditions. But in return, the Alliance knew they had a special arm." She sighed. "Vakarian, not a lot of people know about this. And there are a fair number of them I've had to either kill or were killed by someone else."

"I can handle myself, Rachel."

She smiled, but her eyes remained bright and intense. "I know. But I don't want to put you in any needless danger." She looked down at her gloved hands. "Or, think about what it might mean if I became the source of that danger."

"Danger suits me. Helps me sleep at night." When he heard her chuckle he nodded for her to continue.

She sighed. "Let me start from the beginning then. Lor—he was my mentor, my father—a salarian. If Krul hadn't told you already. He raised me back on earth in a place they called the Tenth Street in New York."

"A salarian? What was he doing on earth?"

"I don't know. I could only make a guess but I never really knew why he chose earth." She smiled sadly at him but he nodded for her to continue. "It was a low town, depressed area with nothing but debris and crime. Full of criminals who got younger and younger every year, didn't make much sense that place. The government had just stopped caring when there was a whole galaxy to take care of.

"I can't tell you, exactly, why I was there and how I was born. Only that I existed—nameless, lawless. Before I got neck deep in a gang, Lor found me—or I found him, stumbled upon him when I was injured during a gang war. I was about eight years old."

He shook his head. Even the duct rats in the citadel didn't start a life of crime that young. She cleared her throat and continued.

"When I was eight he trained me in everything he knew. When I was 12, we started going to missions together. Assassination and long term infiltration, that kind of thing."

"Four years and you were already good enough to do—jobs?"

She gave him a wry smile. "I was a very good student. Lor told me, even if I were salarian, I would be considered prodigious. Fast and good with numbers, he said. Exaggerations, he liked to brag to himself that he was an excellent teacher and I was an even better student."

Garrus didn't think it was an exaggeration. Even turians went to military training by 15 and no younger, also, that was still five years of prep before they were field tested. They had at least a full ten years before hitting a real skirmish and they had known their whole lives, from the moment they were born, that battle was a normal thing. He knew humans didn't have that kind mindset or tradition, not generally, anyway. Not even a life in a gang could teach the subtleties Rachel demonstrated with such ease. Even Drell assassins started at six years old but their biology allowed them to move with more flexibility. Four years was a short amount of time to prepare for a career of killing and trickery.

"When I was 16 he left me to finish his own business." Garrus watched her hands go up to her arms, gripping them tightly. "He cut himself off from all the connections we made together. After that, I started taking missions on my own. I was looking for him but he made it pretty damn hard. He was getting pretty old for a salarian, if he didn't die because of his duty it would be because of his age.

"When a difficult job came to my table, two years of being solo, I almost didn't take it but then the boss that I had to assassinate was said to be connected to Lor. I was doing the job with two other people but one of them was undercover." She chuckled humorlessly. "We killed him easily but it turned out the whole job was a scam. It was important that my associate escaped, though. The reason—is classified. But if I wanted to make sure my associate didn't get thrown in jail then I had to put up a front. I stalled for time before I was finally captured and imprisoned. A few months later, Captain Hackett—when he was still a Captain, strode in and recruited me."

"Hackett? Admiral Hackett? The Hackett who sent Alenko in all those random missions every time we just so happened to be in a particular star system?" Garrus remembered how irritating that was to stop by a planet just to do some grunt work. Williams barely liked it either.

"Yes, the old busybody." Smiling, she managed a soft chuckle. "I was going to be put into the N7 program but Akuze happened and I was—distraught." She sighed. "But Hackett said I was still needed, the N7 program was a formality. They already knew what I can do, saw it in Akuze and all the other times I had to play soldier. Instead, they promoted me, used my fake name—the longest name I had—Shepard, as the codename for my new position.

"Before I went rogue I was Staff Commander Shepard of the Dominion—I headed a group of operatives who didn't exist. We answered to no one save ourselves. Each of my team took on a new name and identity. We did everything the Special Ops couldn't. You can imagine that if Spec Ops aren't up to a job, then who is?" She smiled, staring right at him. "My team took on the names of Archangels. And all of them answered to one Shepard."

"You were Black Ops?" That had Garrus nearly standing off his seat. Turians generally didn't like the idea of Black Operatives. Huge battle fields, fierce and fair fights. There were too many memories, bad memories of what assassins and spies did to organized units during the turian civil war. The Cabal units had to live with that stigma, and every turian without colony markings as well.

"I did tell you I've worked with turians. The Hierarchy may seem like a proper system but then you hear about someone's death caused by a long term illness. Or a turian going missing in space. Then, someone steps up to fill in the shoes left behind." Her eyes narrowed. "We were very good at our jobs, unfortunately. Didn't you ever wonder how Councilor Spartacus got to where he is now despite being a complete nuisance?"

"Spirits," He did stand this time and started pacing. "How far was Dominion's reach?"

"Let me put it this way—with the Dominion, certain aliens were indebted to humans in different ways. Especially the non-council aliens, who didn't have Spectres to aid them." She closed her eyes again. "But a few short years later, I shut the Dominion down. Alliance lost a lot clout. They weren't happy about it."

"Why did you shut it down?"

"Classified."

"Okay," He stopped pacing, facing her. "So, why the vendetta against Cerberus? Was it because of Akuze?"

"Akuze, yes. They were responsible for the team that died there. They were also involved in my last mission as Dominion. Again, that's classified." She sighed.

"This is the last—I promise." He watched her carefully, the way her eyes shifted, the way the muscles of her back and shoulder tightened. He knew that if he looked through his visor her heart would be beating very fast even if her face was calm. "Who is Lor? He's a salarian, but—how did he know all the things he taught you? You hinted he wasn't STG, couldn't be—even they're too conventional. A Spectre?"

Her whole body stuttered. He would have retracted the question with the way her eyes sharpened. "You would definitely die if you revealed this to anyone, Vakarian."

"Would you kill me?"

"Yes."

"Then that wouldn't be so bad." He sat back down, grinning. He felt his heart pound and his eyes sharpen. "It could be our last date." Sighing when the tension didn't leave Rachel's shoulders, he shook his head. "I would never tell anyone you didn't want me to tell. No one. Trust me."

For a long while she just looked at him, studied him again the way she did in the clinic weeks ago. In return he didn't move, didn't flinch under her scrutiny and he hoped that when she sighed, he'd somehow managed to pass her test.

"All salarians don't speak of them anymore, barely many know they existed." She paused. "But with good reason, because they're not allowed to talk about them at all, loyalty to the dalatrass makes it impossible. But Lor had no allegiance save one group, similar to the Dominion. It started over a thousand of years ago and was destroyed because their own Union tore them apart when the asari demanded full disclosure of their military. The Union left them to their enemies and then they were eradicated."

Garrus eyes widened. He remembered hearing a familiar story while traveling from planet to planet, restraining himself from taking the wheel of the Mako from Alenko because he was a horrible driver. He remembered the salarian fossils, the corpses, the medallions—dog tags of the fallen.

"The League of One, they missed one member and his grudge lasted for more than a thousand years."

"Spirits," He whispered to himself. The League of One, they were the very first—the epitome of Spectre and STG training. And they died out and took a lot of the secrets with them.

"He, the missing operative, and all those after him trained generation after generation of salarians—orphans, abadonded by their dalatrass— to exact their revenge on the bloodlines that were responsible for their downfall and still exist today. The details are fuzzy, even for me. But they lived in secret for so long until just in his generation, Lor's team had been hunted down by three Spectres, one of which was Saren. The faction was guilty of treason but the Council never realized it was the League of One that they were destroyed again."

"Saren? Your—father was after Saren?"

"Yes, that's why it was important I repay Commander Alenko."

"To pay your debt."

"Right, a huge debt but that would be too simple. Lor was the sole survivor of the League, but he couldn't bear to live on the way he did—not when all he knew, _Abrue _and _Abrul_, Brothers and Fathers, he called them—needed to be avenged. He changed the name and started over. The Legion of One, he called himself—he called us.

"My debt to Alenko runs deep because my ties to my _Abrul_ run deep. I don't know whether he's dead or alive. I need to know what happened to him, why didn't he contact Alenko if he heard what happened with Saren? I—had hoped he would. Debts are important to salarians, they were important to Lor."

Garrus nodded. So, she did risk revealing herself in hopes of finding her mentor—more than revealing herself to her enemies— and told no one. This must have been the underlying reason for contacting the commander, for helping him. He was some kind of indirect link to Lor, one she had to risk just because there was a possibility that he might come out of hiding and repay Alenko. "Does the Union know about Lor? About you?"

"No. Imagine what would happen if they did." Garrus felt a shiver travel through him at the thought. A human who knew all the salarian Union's secrets, inside and out, and one with not a sliver of loyalty towards their Dalatrass?

Humanity was new to the rest of the galaxy but that didn't apply to Rachel. A thousand years' worth of secrets were written down in her bones. Smart. Beyond talented. She possessed that natural charisma that had aliens and humans trailing after her for strength, that thing that Alenko was missing. If she really wanted to, she could pick apart the Union.

In other words, she'd be lucky to be dead if they knew about her. "Does the Alliance know?"

"They never confirmed their suspicions. And whatever they did manage to guess, Hackett threw them off with false information."

"I'm guessing Hackett is one of those friends that helped you stay alive."

"He—I owe him and his family a lot." She smiled, the way her eyes dimmed cued Garrus in that she was thinking about something that happened again. "But that's another story for another time.

"So, Vakarian, do you regret knowing? Imagine what would happen if they knew about me, and then they'd know about you."

"You'd kill me before they got to me."

"With deep regret. But I would. So many others too, but it's best you don't know who those are."

He felt his mandible twitching, his hands too. He was just full of restless energy, Wrex would have probably laughed at him and called him an ugly krogan. In truth, he hadn't felt as excited—was that the right word?—to be in her presence since their "date." There were a lot of holes, but those could come with time. His father's nagging voice was loud in his head but he ignored him.

She had a reason for her secrets and she had a reason for her ruthlessness. Old warnings from an old turian couldn't possibly take into consideration that someone like Rachel—Shepard—Legacy could exist. The investigator in him took this all in, added them all to his mental file of her and he felt ecstatic, elated.

He was in presence of the best: Galactic best and more elusive than the Spectres ever were. And with what he heard, she may have run into them in her work both on and off Alliance. Possibly killed one or two of them on her own—either because of a job or because of a wild chase in the middle of one. She was a member, a legacy of the League of One. Was he crazy to feel this way—this admiration, near reverent respect for a human—for anyone?

He was aware now that if she had taken their match seriously, he would probably be dead. But he still managed to surprise her, to exceed her expectations. He had her respect, and maybe even her trust and that felt damn well liberating. If he needed to test his mettle against hers—either for fun or if she seriously needed to take his life—he knew he would have to do his best or he would die.

Instead of saying all of that though he cleared his throat, sat back down and crossed his arms. "Just one thing—Shepard."

"You better not call me by that name in public."

"Of course. Just answer me."

"Fine. What is it?"

"I think I've earned the right to be called Garrus now."

She looked at him for a long time and then just laughed. Leaning back against her chair, her chin tilted up. "Fine. Garrus. I guess that's a good trade."

* * *

_How many of you were surprised? Or who actually guessed, right? Not that I was being subtle but I would like to hear your thoughts!_


	16. Chapter 14

_Very busy weekend. So, I'm posting this now. See you soon, I hope. _

Chapter 14

They barely even had to torture the guy before he started singing like a canary. Frankly, Rachel was disappointed. She really wanted to draw everything out. She confessed this to Garrus who looked at her half amused and half frightened before he said, "What else are you going to confess to me? You're undying love?"

She thought she'd die laughing.

The assassin wasn't Alliance, but he did work for someone in the Alliance. It didn't even matter who it was, really, but she punched Hashmal and asked for his name anyway. Just to watch the man cry. Apparently, it was a new Admiral by the name of Gregor Mason, who wasn't even involved with the earlier Dominion faction but wanted that sort of backing. Rachel rolled her eyes at the mere thought of it.

"How did he know about the Dominion?"

"S-someone had sold the information to the Shadow Broker."

"Fucking Broker." She muttered, beside her Garrus chuckled. It seemed like someone new had to die again. She'd have to call Zachrael, he enjoyed getting rid of traitors even in the old days. Wait till he heard about this. "He should be silenced for good. Do you know who sold it?"

"No, I don't know anything!"

"Hm."

"Please, I don't know. What are you going to do to me? Please, please don't kill me."

"How did you find me?" Rachel asked. When he didn't answer right away she lifted her fist to break his nose in. She did it swiftly that the grinding of bones at the impact of her punch was the only indication that she had hit him at all. Hashmal yelled and cried and blood poured down his nose and covered his mouth.

"Fuck, it was a coincidence! We were sent out to find the old Dominion. We have leads on all the First Seven except you. We just found out you were Shepard days ago! W-we thought we were going to find Azril but when you didn't match his ID or anyone's it was likely you were Shepard."

"Why is he looking for the Dominion?"

"He wants to start it up again. He's trying to get the old members, to teach us because he couldn't find Intel on Shepard. If he knew you were just here—he wouldn't need the First Seven. But we thought we c-could prove ourselves by killing you."

"Hah, what? You think your team was the Second Seven?" She used the handle of her sword to tilt his head up. "You think you can hold a candle to the Dominion with the way your guys moved? All of you fell easily enough. You don't deserve their names."

"Shit, _shit_! Don't kill me, please!" He stamped his feet on the ground, wildly. He looked like he was about to start vomiting—like some kind of overgrown baby. These were the kinds of guys who blew up Aria's apartment, her apartment? Really? Now, she was just pissed off.

"Definitely not real Dominion," Rachel withdrew her sword. "We've been trained to withstand torture. Or at least, attempt to endure it to make it memorable."

Garrus's face plates twitched at that. "So, what's the verdict? This guy knows who you are and where to find you."

"We'll have him record his voice to send it to his employer, arrange a VI to give this admiral updates until an— old friend can pay him a visit. Until then, the VI can throw the admiral off my scent. This guy—we can leave to Aria. He did blow up her apartment." She smiled at the man tied to the chair who just started to cry. "You're going to wish you just died instead."

* * *

"Have fun, Legacy?"

Mask back on, she strode into Aria's floor of Afterlife and took her usual seat beside the asari. "Left the little shit to your men. Try to keep him alive long enough that he'll regret living."

"Oh. I intend to." She inclined her head at—Garrus who stood at the bottom of her stairs. His face gave away nothing. "Still following you around?"

"He drove us here."

"And why did you come back?"

Legacy signaled for a drink. "I thought Aria knew everything that happened in Omega?

"Don't be cute. It pisses me off."

"Fine." Legacy put her hand out. "Keys to the new apartment, if you will."

"What apartment?"

"The one you'll give to me if you want me to keep working here."

Aria thought about it for a while, waiting for Legacy's glass of wine to come by before she said, "I had intended that you live with me."

Mid-gulp, Rachel nearly choked on her drink. "I'd rather sleep beside the Vorcha."

Aria rolled her eyes. "It's the safest place. With everything that's happened I would think you would want to be safe."

"I also don't want to be nagged. I get that enough via omni-tool. I don't need it every day and night."

"I've been told I was a good bed warmer."

"Oh? Is that why Kandros walked out?" The glass in Legacy's hands shattered, she took one amused glance at Aria, skin still emitting the blue of her biotics. "Struck a nerve?"

"No comment. And I'm not going allow you to wander my streets like a stray cat."

Just then Garrus cleared his throat, both women turned to look at him. "Maybe I can provide a better option?"

* * *

"I should have chosen the vorcha."

Legacy found herself following Va—Garrus to Archangel headquarters. She was also digging her heels every step of the way. On the other hand, he just laughed. "What? You want to stay in my apartment?"

"Don't be crass."

"See. This is a better option. You already know where it is and you're secretive enough. I doubt you'd compromise it."

"Did you forget what happened to my last place?"

"That wasn't you fault. That was Aria's. She's had you traipsing around for too long with a name attached. I know you'll be extra careful going in and out of here from now on." He motioned at the base that loomed like a dark cloud over her head.

"This isn't a good idea, Va—Garrus. What will your team think?"

He shook his head, an oddly human gesture. "They know you. You're not going to mess up our rhythm. We'll be barely operational for three weeks, at least." He paused. "And even if we were full time, it's not like you don't work for us anyway."

"Garrus, all I did was tell you a little bit of my past. Now, you're asking me to move in with you? Maybe we should slow this down."

He laughed when she crossed her arms. "What? You think we need a break?"

"Just know that it's you and not me."

"Shepard," The turian sounded like he was trying to curb his amusement. Obviously, it wasn't working. "Archangel isn't going to bite you. At least, not very hard." He put a hand on her shoulder that she had to resist shrugging off. "Besides, most of us don't live here. You can be our guard varren to earn your keep. Just until you get a new place."

"Sounds great."

"Isn't it?"

"I was being sarcastic."

"You sounded awfully sarcastic, but I don't care."

They traded jibes all the way up to the dorms, the team saw them enter but they just headed all the way upstairs. She did manage to see them gaping and shuffling up after them. She spotted Sensat immediately, too excited for words that it made Shepard a little bit afraid when she got close. The asari looked like she was resisting the urge to jump her.

"Are you staying over?" She asked with glowing, dark eyes.

"Sorry for the suddenness." Garrus shrugged, barely sorry. "Legacy will be staying in HQ indefinitely. She'll watch over the place when we're out doing our jobs. Try not to kill her. That goes for you too, Legacy." He gave her a narrow eyed look that had no malice behind it.

She shrugged. Might as well play along. "So long as I can claim self-defense, I will strike. Keep your team in line, Vakarian and we'll be fine." He looked close to correcting her for the name but the female turian—Melany? Melody?—stepped forward from the line of his team. Rachel knew something about reading turian expressions—though it took a copious amount of energy to do so— and she knew the other girl looked above and beyond pissed off with her teeth bared and her mandibles flared. It was like it was a little more than half a year ago, and she was in the middle of Alenko and Williams's romance again.

Damn, she should have just stayed in Afterlife. That was the magical third option. Even if Grizz had hinted creepily that she had yet to pay him back on her promise. And had made a few unsubtle hints about when she used to dance at the poles (like she wanted to be reminded, the things you did to spy on your enemies).

There was no time for longer regrets though because Sensat pulled her by the hand and showed her a free bunk (right next to hers, wonderful!) and what drawers were free for her to put things in.

One of the human men sighed and said, "Asari move really fast, don't they?" The woman beside him just laughed. "We have no hope."

Sensat waved him off. "I have no interest in you like that, Legacy. Rest assured. I'm nothing like the barbaric men behind me who've used words like "damn fine" and "nice arse" to describe you."

Rachel stepped back. "Vakarian, maybe we should rethink this."

"Well, fuck, we've been ousted by Sensat. This betrayal is deep, asari. You were supposed to be the nice one."

Sensat blinked but continued. "Ripper in particular went through many synonyms for—"

"I think I already know and I don't want to confirm it." Rachel put a hand over the asari's mouth. She gave a nod to Vakarian. "Maybe you can show me around the base instead, Sensat? I'd like to know the perimeter more. And with your boss' permission maybe set up more defenses?"

"Go ahead, Legacy. Sensat—try not to scare her off."

The asari all but screamed when she pulled Rachel out the door. Before they both got out of ear shot, she distinctly heard one of the men—likely to be Ripper—asking Garrus if he could start staying in the dorm too.

His request was gruffly denied by Erash, through their comm system, before Garrus could even answer.

* * *

Garrus was making his way towards Shepard when she was finally alone, scanning one of the far corners of the first floor with her new and improved omni-tool (before they left Aria said it was to make up for the stripper, he thought she would just be frantic if she couldn't contact Legacy again).

Throughout the day he just watched her practically fly with Sensat from one end of the base to the other, listening to what Sensat told her—all the little stories about whatever they saw or touched. "How Butler broke the vase that was here when he tripped over his own feet." or "How the boss used the shelf for target practice and that's why it was set aside in a weird way." or "How Mierin had been trying to figure out how to use the grinder and that's why it was still broken because Erash refused to fix it for the nth time." Garrus never realized how long the asari could just go on, but Shepard was very patient and asked questions that made the asari smile.

When he was a few steps behind her, she spoke without turning. "The position of this place may not be conventionally sound, Garrus. But I'm a big fan of hiding in plain sight. Just wanted you to know what I thought, even if I knew exactly where it was for a while."

He stopped, leaning on one leg. Of course, he knew this was a great place. He picked it out himself and he was no slouch when it came to tactics. "And the defenses?"

"Sufficient but not great. Your hacker did well with the tech though so I don't think I can improve much there. I'm going to start setting up back-up power routers and generators. Also, a few defense turrets downstairs. If anyone gets desperate, underground would be the perfect place to dig—there are a lot of interlocking tunnels down here in Omega." Her new omni-tool finished scanning the corner and she looked up at the results. "The building isn't displaying any signs of wear or rotting, despite it being fairly old. The fibers should be able to hold a few explosions."

Garrus's eyes widened. "You're not planning to set up mines, are you? Butler can get pretty—restless. I don't want him to step on them by accident. Nalah would cry."

"I'm just taking into consideration the possibility of explosives as a precaution: if by chance your enemies find your team here, there's going to be a line of defense you can activate instantly but they'll be deactivated until then. So, unless Butler decides to ram himself into the wall—then there's barely a possibility of anything blowing up.

"However, they won't be there if you don't want them to be." She smiled up at him. "I can set up laser-wire that Erash can switch on the moment he thinks things become dangerous. We should also setup extra surveillance at your choke points and hidden cameras in case they get blasted away."

He nodded. "I see you've thought this through."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

His left hand reached for his right shoulder. "There are funds to think about, you know? There's also transportation. That much tech in one shuttle is going to get mercs suspicious."

"We just have to split them up at different drop points and fetch them nonchalantly. Information Brokers always look for things that stand out, I assure you that I know when not to stand out." She moved back to assess the wall again. "As for funds, we can do it one step at a time. No need to rush. Prioritize surveillance and back-up generators since your group relies heavily on tech. The rest will follow."

He hummed, more pleased than he would care to admit. Krul had talked about these a things a few times with him but not as confidently."I've been thinking about emergency exits as well. Any ideas for those?"

"Ah, well. A weakness to the location, you're surrounded by wolves." She gave him a small smile. "I can show you a little bit of the tunnels—Aria would kill me but that would be the best part. As far as I can discern, you won't have to break any walls to get to a safe location too. You can teach it to your team on your own time."

He chuckled. "Aren't you handy?"

"More than just handy, Garrus." She nudged his shoulder with her elbow, barely a graze really. Smiling, she looked past his shoulder then looked up at his face. Then she began to whisper, her mouth barely moving as she did it. "I think your turian girlfriend wants to talk to you."

He didn't turn back right away. He tried to snuff out the nervous sound in his sub-harmonics but by the amused look on Shepard's face he wasn't successful. "Melanis and I aren't together, Sh—Legacy."

"Really? She's been giving me the stink eye since I got here." She whispered back, when she drew a half step closer he felt something shift quickly behind him. "See. She's got her talons dug right into your back."

Though Shepard herself didn't bother to move back when there was a growl coming from Melanis's own subharmonics. Then again, neither did he. "It's, uh, I know. She told me."

Shepard's eyes grew round and large at that. "And you _rejected_ her?"

"Um, yes."

"Woah, isn't she considered pretty by turian standards? What kind of snobby tastes do you have?" She put her hands up when he glared at her. "Tell me you let her down easy."

"Easy enough. But she— _expressed _that she probably won't tolerate other girls if they come by."

"Well, you're in for a wild ride, Garrus." She winked at him and he glared. "Off you go. Please explain that though I do enjoy the company of turians in general, your face is no different from Grizz's to me."

"What? Grizz? The turian guard by the stairs in Afterlife?" When she nodded he growled playfully. "I saw Grizz and he's got nothing on this." He motioned at all of him. When she couldn't hold back the laughter, Melanis footsteps were audible and with angry purpose as she moved quickly towards them. Gone was the efficiency of an apex predator, just the woman who had clearly told him that he should be wary of her scorn.

"Oh shit, the ugly face of jealousy is worse on a turian." Now he had to hold his laughter when Shepard murmured. She took a small step back to let Melanis into their circle.

"Legacy," She greeted, coldly. "I see you've made yourself comfortable. Checking the base, adding things."

"Melanis, was it?" Her voice was smooth and low, her eyes flickered to him and she looked all the more amused. "Heard great things about you from Vakarian."

"Did you?" Garrus almost groaned in dismay at how hopeful she sounded. He would pay Shepard back for this.

Shepard nodded. "I'll leave you two alone now. Vakarian, you'll find me in the dorm in about an hour. Have to see if any of my things are salvageable." She nodded to both of them before heading for the exit, but not before she put a hand on his arm (near his elbow) and letting it linger before she left. And Melanis's mandible clicked together audibly.

He could almost imagine Shepard's laughter when she was far enough. She would pay for this. She really would.

"You said you guys—" Melanis's eyes narrowed. "Either she was playing with me or you were lying."

When he got an idea, an idea so unlike him that he must have channeled the Spirit of—Rachel (whatever that meant, mischief or cunning) he put on his most convincing and serious face. "Actually, Melanis, the things is…"

* * *

"I can't believe you did that, Vakarian."

"I know. Brilliant?"

"Stupid. So stupid and I hate you."

"That's not what I told Melanis."

She rolled her eyes as she unpacked her things. She hadn't gotten a replacement for most of her old weapons and the armor she used as Rachel yet (she had intended to destroy the latter, anyway). But her rifle had been salvaged and was under repair (Mordin was happy to take it and add some tweaks) and she still had her blade and sidearm and those were enough.

"You sent her to me and she was all righteous indignation and fury. And she keeps her talons long. Very, very long."

"She does, doesn't she? And I saw her kill a turian with those. Almost as fast as you. Give it a few more years."

Shepard glared at him. "I am not your fan girl, Va—Garrus. And I do not think "you are my one true turian love" as you claimed I said, verbatim."

"And who will she believe: Fanatic, crazy Legacy who works for evil asari or the leader of Archangel who comes with the complete package of handsome, skilled, and debonair?"

"The only fanatics you have work for you. And I do not work for you." She huffed. "You better be prepared, Garrus. I make a living settling grudges."

"Aren't you glad I convinced her to head on home and that you won't molest me?"

"And you better head to your own apartment because if you gave me an opening I will kill you in your sleep."

Laughing, Garrus stood up from his place on the couch and bid her good night and left the dorms.

When he was gone she muttered to herself. Now, she would try to think of something else lest Erash ask her what was wrong through the dorm comms.

Removing the folded handful of clothes from her pack to her bunk to be segregated into the drawers, she sighed and crossed her arms. Most of the clothes Aria had bought her in a hurry were what made up her wardrobe now. They were normal and decent, surprisingly—no thongs or embarrassing lacy things anywhere. Most were dark in color too but she did a few white things in the mix.

Fucking, Vakarian- how dare he, she caught herself and shook her head.

She went back to assessing her clothes. What she did have that was a little risqué were the thigh high boots Grizz had given her for a belated Christmas gift (he knew her size, she didn't know whether to be amused or scared) that actually would do nicely in battle as he'd modded them (he really knew her well) with some tech to amplify her running speed and strength of her kicks. It also had decent shield generators which could be tweaked to be even better. When she had explored them, there was also some space enough to add another form of tech. They were partly bone weaved and yet they were light and leathery and black, laced in the sides in a way that made them stylish despite how long it would take her to put them on at all.

They would really show of her legs. Grizz obviously wanted her to wear them for him—even if it must have used up half a year's worth of salary to get them.

And she would because he was doing well to not let Aria know about her dealings with Patriarch. She'd have to find some armor to go with the boots (no way was she going around Omega without at least light armor).

But _really_, because she couldn't get it out of her mind. How dare Vakarian claim such a thing.

The very thought that she would be anyone's fan girl was just stupid. She'd had her fair share of relationships—mostly short ones that meant nothing. She'd guess that she had already met the greatest love of her life which was the cloak. And maybe, she had met the second but that didn't work out in the end.

Garrus was so out of his league, she was going to slay him and his dead rotting body would be the stench of victory.

She caught herself then, this thought—this sense of camaraderie that she hadn't felt since her time in the Alliance. It was a dangerous feeling, a beautiful feeling. So she allowed herself to revel in it some more, breathed it in and out as she removed one article of clothing at a time and tucked them into drawers.

Removing her gloves, she eyed the scars on her hands and knew they would look as if they faded. She knew when she went to sleep that night that she wouldn't be able to remember her dreams the next day. The fact that a bunch of amateurs found her in Omega was bad enough. What if her enemies really tried to look for her again?

It was a sign: it was time to leave Omega.

But for now, just for now, she would stay.


	17. Interlude II

_Another Interlude. I hope you enjoy this as much as I liked writing it. I predict about 2 or 3 more Interludes spread through out the story. I find the current POVs limited in understanding the characters. And it just isn't as fun without them._

_Many thanks to Elantil, Primordial Soul, and GalaxyWanderer for reviewing all the time. And for all the readers too for sticking around._

_I am also aware that in ME3 the N7 sniper rifle is called Valiant but for now, since it's Legacy's own and not Alliance owned schematics it's called Variant, yay puns._

_Apologies in advance for typos. Gosh, wish I could catch them all but I've re-read this one too many times that I can no longer see them. __As we you know, I re-check old chapter but only after a couple of weeks have past. _Maybe it's time to rethink not getting a beta. 

_See you next update. _

**Interlude II: How Legacy was Archangel's Legacy and Thus: Ma'am and Not Really**

Erash knew that Legacy's presence in the base would change things

Granted, he was just happy that she had spent a good amount of her days in his office, watching the surveillance cameras with him. Maintaining the equipment that had been ruined because of the explosion—she had with her a very interesting sniper rifle that she had given him permission to poke around and find improvements she didn't know herself.

"You could have been an engineer, Legacy. You do good work." He muttered as he looked around the gun that went by the name "Variant." It looked like a weak gun but seemed to pack modded bullets and a lot of punch. Though Erash felt he could reduce the reload time by more than eighty percent and add a few extra rounds before popping a new clip in.

"Hah, I'm no genius, Erash. Can't make my own stuff—most of what I learned was taught to me by a friend from the old days." She smiled as she assembled a mod for her scope. He watched her hands work with all four of his eyes gleaming. "All my other talents may go to waste if I did."

"Still, could use another tech head." He sniffed. He wasn't trying to be discreet but he could have used the subtlety. He was never good at that but still it would have saved him the embarrassment of being figured out so easily.

She smiled at him. "I'd be honored, Erash. But you see here," She pointed at one of the screens where the boss was walking around. Turian in his stance, but his eyes darted all over the place, looking for something. "I think you can handle yourself more than he can."

"Ah, the boss can get pretty lost." He nodded. If he had to lose Legacy to anyone then it would be to the boss. He had approved of Glarch—the name should be shot though. "I think you two look nice together."

She laughed. "That sounds like a whole lot of gossip, Erash. You should know better."

"Do you like the boss, Legacy?"

She paused in her work, eyeing the turian through the screen. Her smile grew wider. "He's tolerable."

"I'm thinking he likes you more than he knows himself." Erash sniffed again, watching the boss too. He was likely looking for Legacy and it was confirmed when he stopped to ask Ripper if he'd seen her. "More than you'd like to acknowledge too."

She gave nothing away. Not even in color of her skin as humans seemed to do. "Something you observed?"

"I have four eyes. I use them all very well."

"Hm. Well, unless you can find proof I will neither agree nor deny."

"Tss. Difficult human."

"Nosy batarian." She sang back before something clicked well into in her scope and her smile turned furtive and small. Pleased.

Tapping her feet as she worked, she began to hum under her breath before she began to sing, but the words didn't come out of in his translator. The language was round rather than gruff, unlike his own. But weighty that he was impressed she was probably barely tripping over the words. It was impossible for most batarian to learn to speak a new language, accent and biology barely allowed it. Though, Erash himself had the capacity to at least read it (he doubted the rest of his kind did or even wanted to). Perhaps, this was a contributor to the xenophobia that gripped them, other than being foolish, and there was no getting around stupidity. He's noted Butler as a prime example.

Erash closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, echoing softly around them in the tight room. It had reminded him of when he was about 11 years old— working in the fields, of the sun that beat down the back of his head as he bent down—touched the soil with his hands: dark, wet, lush. The perfume that wafted towards him in the wind…

Khar'shan had been a beautiful place to live. And though larger portions of land lacked the technology of most cities, it had been full of life in its own way. He had loved the fields: a contrast to the cold tech under the ministrations of adept fingers, but still it was a warm reminder that not all times in his younger days was he reminded of his place as slave or whipped bloody for forgetting.

Legacy's voice reminded him of the krepice skirts of the female slaves, billowing against the wind as they watched from underneath the shade as the men worked on the field. They carried with them fruits by the basket, grepin mostly from the harvest of vines to turn into beer variants that would be shipped off and exported. The women stood and they taught the children their language through their songs—their voices lifted by the winds and into the vast krepice fields.

When Legacy stopped singing, Erash didn't look up from his work when he said: "What was that language?"

It took only a moment before she replied. "A very old one. I heard my father sing it all the time. It's a—celebratory hymn."

"Do you know anything more somber?"

She laughed. "Somber, huh? A dirge? The old language had a lot of dirges."

"Sing it then."

She barely balked at the pushiness of his tone. Most races did and scorned his race for it, even if it was something they couldn't help because of their own culture and language—the violent nature of the former, most especially. That batarians were barely gentle in most things but Erash remembered the fields and the wind and knew that wasn't all true.

When Legacy began her song, her voice translated beautifully into a somber tone: low and slow. Erash remembered Khar'shan once more: his mother's face and the deep black emptiness of her eyes as she called him "Waerfan", his father's name, "My love." She held him by the hand as if all the time and suffering hadn't passed and he was still alive.

And Erash felt only disgust for the woman, his own mother, as she sobbed into the harsh material of the krepice and klete of her shirt: wept and wept, apologized for all the times he had called out a name that wasn't his but his father's.

Erash then had crept into his the covers of his cot, smelled the sweet scent of grepin in the winds of the fields, the soil beneath the palms of his hands, and the voices of the women. He reached out for the cold handle of his tools and searched for the glint of the machine he was trying to produce, working all night afterward without rest until he had finished.

The boss probably didn't know that Legacy could sing.

Erash wasn't eager to inform him any time soon.

* * *

When she wasn't in Erash's office, she was in three other places: the storage below the ground floor where she meditated for half an hour every day and did some exercises for a whole hour afterwards, at the Mess Hall eating with Sensat or whoever was there at the time or in the dorms sleeping or changing (Erash always switched the cameras off then, he'd never watch. It was a breach of the trust Legacy seemed to place on him). Legacy was taking it easy for now since the explosion of her apartment.

Various members of Archangel were delighted to find her in the mess on most days. Engage her in conversation, especially when Sensat was out (as she had this thing for trying to monopolize her, idiotic asari effort). As a week past, the human males (the single ones, as Butler was absent) of Archangel had made it their ritual to have lunch with Legacy. Erash would have joined them himself, but he barely left his office.

Legacy seemed to take the attention in stride. She didn't try to act demurely as Sensat sometimes did. Or, to act like one of them, as Mierin did (though, Mierin probably didn't mean to). And she wasn't disgusted at their antics, like Melanis was. In fact, although Erash had feared for Legacy at first, she had taken her place on the mess table as—sage. Weaver had described her as "an older sister" and what Ripper described as "an oasis in a desert."

"So, Vortash, how goes it with Mierin? Any progress?" She smiled after putting down her sandwich.

"She hates me, as usual." The man said with his mouth full and she rolled his eyes at him. "Nothin' I say is going to change that, ma'am."

"Well, maybe if you stopped pulling at the proverbial pigtails, she might actually look at you as more than a nuisance." She chuckled at his dismayed look. "Or maybe if you just told her?"

"She's right, Vor. Just tell her: 'Babycakes, your face. I like it.' And she'll be all over you." Ripper snickered. "Fuck it, Legacy. Vor doesn't have that— thing."

"Thing? You mean balls?"

"You hurt me, ma'am."

"Sorry, Vortash." She smiled sweetly but barely sorry. She turned back to Ripper. "What thing?"

"You know—that fucking thing? Don't glare at me like that, ma'am. Think: if she rejects him he'd be a mess. He wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, breathe—he'll be a fucking vegetable."

"Yeah, so you're saying Vortash doesn't have the balls?" She rolled her eyes at all their dismayed faces. "Oh come on, she's one girl. If she says no, you're just going to give up? Win her if you want her. And if that doesn't work still, learn to let go."

"You say that because you have a face and body of a goddess. That's verbatim from Sensat, by the way. Please, don't kill me." Weaver backed away from the table. "You could get any guy you wanted. Or asari, they seem to be crawling all over you, ma'am."

"Ma'am—why do you guys keep calling me ma'am?" Legacy's nose wrinkled in that strange human way, liked she had smelled something awful.

Montaegue cleared his throat. "No, it's because you're Archangel's Legacy."

"I'm what?"

"The boss is the boss. And you're his, so ma'am." Even Erash didn't get the logic but then again, humans did think in weird and intricate ways that baffled him all the time. Again, he conjured Butler as the epitome of senseless.

"You know I don't work for your boss, right? I work with him. There's a clear difference."

"Another clear difference is that if we fucking touched you, he'd hang us upside down and saw off our dicks." Ripper muttered.

"What? You guys are delirious." Legacy pushed off the table and left her seat, bringing her empty plate to the washer under the sink. "You know what ever we say is just banter, right? We knew each other before we re-met in Omega, we have history—very platonic history."

Since her back was turned Legacy couldn't see the faces all the men shared at the table behind her back. Erash was sure he was going to hear about a dating betting pool from one of them soon. When she turned back to look at them, leaning against the counter, they all managed to school their features. "You don't think we're going at it behind your backs, do you, Grundan?"

Legacy had taken a liking to the tall man and he in turn had been extremely nice to her. She had said told him when they were alone that he had reminded her of someone from her old team. Grundan had taken this knowledge with a gracious smile. Erash liked the man too, probably the most decent human man Erash had ever met. "The boss is rather protective of you, Legacy. He reminds us every other day not to overstep our bounds. Not to make too many dirty jokes. Not to cuss too much."

"I'm sure he just wants you all to be decent human beings."

"Or he just wants you all to himself—ow!" Legacy had punched Ripper upside the head. "Fuck, you hit harder than Mei."

"Good. Now, stop slacking off and go do what you guys normally do."

"Aye, ma'am." The table went and she bristled before walking back up to the dorm.

* * *

"That is very interesting, Grundan."

The larger man nearly jumped out of his corner at the sound of Legacy's voice. Erash zoomed the camera in to get a closer look of Grundan's twitchy and wide-eyed expression. Still, his meaty hands clutched on to the two— as Erash recalled— knitting needles with some form of protectiveness. The long fabric that he had fashioned from the needles and a ball of yarn dangled limply off his arm. The "knitting" method escaped Erash, though he had remembered his mother making clothes for them to wear—involving only that one end be tied to a post as the slave weaved the rest by hand. The clothes had been made of the fibers of mostly krepice husks that made him itch in all the wrong places. Slaves couldn't wear anything else—but of course, Erash was no longer a slave.

It was late at night and everyone else had gone home or gone to bed in the dorms. Grundan had messaged Erash that he was coming over to finish his project. Legacy did have a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night cycle, she'd walk downstairs and get a glass of water and bring him some and chide him to go to bed too. Erash barely slept. He saw his mother's face enough awake. He didn't need her in dreams too.

Grundan sniffed, out of excuses he might have given to Legacy. "You going to make fun of me like Ripper and Vor, ma'am?"

Legacy's eyes brightened in recognition and offered Grundan a smile. She brought up her bare hands and Grundan looked wide eyed at the large scars that marred them. "Is that why you squeezed yourself into this tiny, dark corner?"

"Ma'am, what happened to your hands?"

She blinked, looking at them on cue. Erash had seen them on the second night Legacy had slept in the base and so had Sensat. Erash knew all knife scars when he saw them. They were faded though but large, as if the knife had been twisted to create a large gaping wound. Sensat had looked at them with concern, ready to ask questions but she had thought against it. Erash rolled his eyes, typical asari behavior to think she knew what the scars meant. No one would know except whoever Legacy told and Legacy herself.

"Are they that frightening? I didn't think anyone was down here so I didn't wear my gloves."

"No, it's just—did they hurt, ma'am? Was there—nerve damage?"

"The person who inflicted them only wanted it to be painful." She shook her head. "If I lost my hands I wouldn't be able to do my job. But, let's not get into that, Grundan. What are you doing here so late into the night cycle?" She smiled.

"Couldn't sleep." He sniffed again. Eyes flickering from her hands to her face but then with the slump of his shoulders he decided to drop it. "Came to the base—this is where I always work on the," He smiled back. "Scarf."

"Hm. It's the right blue."

"Huh?" The needles he held in one hand clattered against each other as his grip tightened.

"Your boss's blue colony markings. You got the right shade of blue."

Grundan fidgeted. Erash blinked several times from his vantage point. He hadn't realized that was what Grundan was working on. "I didn't make it in time for Christmas. The yarn has to be ordered and it takes a while for them to make."

"Understandable. We're heading into the 23rd century by Earth's standards. I doubt anyone makes the yarn anymore—at least, not for profit."

The other man nodded back and invited her to sit beside him on the floor. "Also, I'm not sure if the boss will need something like this in Cipritine. I heard it was way past being toasty there."

"Past tropical too. You can probably cook eggs on the plants." She laughed, sitting down next to him with her knees drawn to her chest. "But Vakarian can use it in other places. I hear he's been to Noveria and you can freeze over there in seconds."

He sniffed. "I don't know if he'll like it, ma'am. Kind of scared to give it to him. Erash gave it this confused look when I was half-done and I showed it to him, like I was carrying a jar of earthworms and offered him a taste."

She laughed into her drawn up limbs. When she sobered, she folded her arms above her knees and leaned her chin against them. "Erash tends to look at everything with suspicion or disgust."

"You shouldn't say it so plainly, ma'am. He can hear us."

"I'm sure he'll learn to forgive us."

Erash coughed in his room. He would—though it would take a while.

"In any case, Grundan, I'm sure that even if Vakarian has no idea what a scarf is, he'll like the gift. The effort you put into it: you're his team. It looks about done too."

"Yeah, but," He wrinkled the long stretched of fabric in his hands. "Let's talk about something else, ma'am."

"Hm, fine." She titled her head. A sign of curiosity, Erash knew. "Where did you learn to knit? I imagine not a lot of people know how, even on Earth."

There was another bout of sniffling from Grundan before he spoke. "My pop's great-great-grandmother loved doing it. She taught her daughter and so on. But my grandma only had my dad, so she taught him. And he only had me so he taught me." He laughed airily. "Truthfully, ma'am, I like doing it. Only thing my dad taught me before he up and left me and my ma." He paused, tilting his head as well—a mirror image of Legacy's own expression. "Did your pop teach you anything?"

"My— father only taught me things he could relate to covert ops and tactics." She smiled. "Then again, you'd be surprised by how anything could be related to the former."

"Was he Alliance?"

"Alliance? No. But he was—militaristic, you could say."

"Mm. Ma was an Alliance pilot. Away too much and then dad just—gave up." Grundan had a face Erash had never seen before but not the one he expected. He expected some grief, some way the skin of his face would fold into lines the same way Erash's did when he thought of his own mother and Khar'shan. Instead, it was without wrinkles. Peace, maybe. That's how Erash could read the expression. "Dad, he always had a hard time when ma was gone."

"Where were you in all of this?" Her question was a whisper.

"Knitting in my room." He laughed softly. "Remembering my dad, the good times. Like the smell of the soil from working in the backyard for too long and his laughing face when he taught me how to knit. All the flowers died when dad left and ma always did like 'em.

"Knitting helps me relax and think of him. He was a good man when he was around. I always regretted that I didn't try to contact him when ma died."

Legacy's eyes glowed, looking almost wet but Erash wouldn't delude himself. Legacy would never cry. "Then, I think you should definitely give the scarf to your boss. Tell him about your father."

"Legacy, that had nothing to do with anything."

"Didn't it?" She tilted her head, her eyes shining against the darkness. "You'd be surprised by how many things you can link to a scarf."

He smiled at her. Then looked down at the scarf, ran his hands over the large ball of yarn that was still connected to it, twisting a strand around his fingers. "Ma'am, would you accept it if knitted you something too in this color? I have a lot of excess and it would be nice to finish it all."

She blinked, head rising from its perch. "Well—that would be nice. Um, sure. What are you planning to make?"

"Good." He nodded before closing up the last of the scarf. "And I want to make you pair of gloves for when you go to Noveria."

She laughed. "That," Legacy stressed, "had nothing to do with anything, Grundan."

He smiled down at her. He finished the last of the scarf and secured it before starting with his new project. "You said things could be linked to scarves, ma'am. I don't what those are but at least the gloves I'll make you will be."

* * *

Erash knew that Legacy finally understood what the team of male humans meant when they started calling her ma'am.

Erash also discovered that she didn't like it.

It had happened only a few days later. The boss had called for a morning meeting and everyone was there save the boss himself and Weaver (no one expected him to be on time, really). Mierin had been giddy because Legacy had promised that she would fix the coffee grinder the night before for her and then she could teach the girl how to finally use it without it exploding in flames.

Only when Legacy came down from the dorm, everyone's jaws fell to the floor. Erash never really understood that expression until he saw for himself how possible it was.

Erash would be the first to claim that Legacy was attractive, even by his standards, but only for her intellect and her resourcefulness. Nonetheless, he was aware of all the conversation between human men about what they found attractive in women.

By descriptions, what Legacy had been wearing would send the humans to the edge of their patience. And even Butler, married and happy, stared blatantly at Legacy and the pair of thigh high boots she decided to wear under black light armor that hugged her body in all the right places.

"Uh, ma'am," It was Grundan who stood fidgeting as she descended slowly down the step, holding up the now fixed grinder. She put it on the counter to hook it up. "Where are you going this morning?"

"To Afterlife. Have to get back there soon. Aria is getting bitchy and her enemies won't kill themselves." She motioned for Mierin to come close to her and she taught the other woman, as slowly as she can, how to not blow the thing up. Mierin herself looked at Legacy's legs in awe and probably barely heard a thing the other woman said.

"Oh my god, someone. Anyone. Distract the boss." Butler stood from his place on the sofa. "He could come any minute!"

"Who could come any minute?"

"Boss!" Sensat practically jumped in front of him, laughing nervously. "We just realized we're out of, uh, um—"

"Juice!" Weaver whispered helpfully. Erash would argue otherwise.

"Yes, juice!" She echoed with a little titter that left the boss confused. "Yes, we need juice. Mind getting some? You know all the cheapest places and you're already—standing."

Krul leaned against the wall and banged the back of his head against it. Erash would have too if he didn't find the whole predicament amusing.

"Juice? Who drinks juice?" The boss tried to look up but Grundan came helpfully to the rescue, standing over Sensat's shoulder and smiling broadly as he blocked the boss's view of Legacy.

"It's uh juice for, hm, for Erash! You drink, don't you, Erash?"

"Hn." The reply was neither a yes nor a no but he could barely lie to the boss. Omission would have to be the next best thing and everyone seemed thankful.

"Well, I'm sure it can wait for after the briefing—"

"No, it cannot! It cannot wait! Think, sir, think of poor Erash all in his lonesome—dying without his juice, the one thing he asks for." Montaegue supplied dramatically while Butler nodded along. "Come on, boss. Have a heart."

"If you guys had hearts, you would have gotten it for him yourselves." Everyone seemed to think 'fuck' when she strode over, completely blowing her cover. Two mugs of coffee in both her hands, leaving Mieirin struggling to make the cups for the others: two set-ups for levo and dextro (with the dextro one already set but Mierin was strangely dumb that way). Legacy motioned at Vortash to go to the counter with the subtle tilt of her head and he looked both grateful and scared as he strode on over there to help her. Legacy smiled, her heels clinking against the floor lightly as she handed the boss a cup of coffee. "Good morning, Vakarian. You're late."

He stared at her. Then he stared at the coffee, and then he stared at her boots. The bright and beautiful morning Montaegue and Butler had been singing about seemed to vanish before the storm brewing in the boss's eyes. Melanis chuckled darkly in her corner muttering a "Serves her right." But Sensat had shushed her with a slap on the arm.

"So," The boss started conversationally. Taking a sip of his coffee, and that seemed to lighten his demeanor but just barely. Must have been chocolate but still his face had what Mieirin had called boss' "C-Sec Investigator face" and this wasn't lost on Legacy as she leaned back on one foot, the clink of her heel made him turn towards it before he looked back up at her face. "You look like you're ready to go to work. New wardrobe."

"Yes," She drank from her own steaming mug. She made a furtive glance at the pair behind her and heard Mieirin giggle at something Vortash said. "A lot of it had been ruined in the explosion. Had to buy new stuff. The boots were a gift. I think I've gotten quite attached to them."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Christmas gift from a turian friend." She smiled. "He even knew my size."

Erash laughed in his office, doubling over at the look on his boss' face. She was totally playing him, even with his whole team present.

"Turian friend?" He recovered with another sip of his coffee.

"I have mentioned I kept the close company of Grizz, right?"

"Grizz?" The boss growled. "That turian who looks like—well, he doesn't look like much compared to, hm, Sidonis." He pointed to his second-in-command who looked like he just wanted to be anywhere but in the mess hall.

"Well, that may be true—"

"You think Sidonis is attractive?" The boss interrupted and Sidonis coughed and excused himself, muttering something about going up ahead to the board room.

"I'm sure you think Grizz isn't much compared to anyone." She finished her coffee in a few short gulps and handed him her empty mug. He took it automatically and she smiled at him in thanks. "But then again, he did give me the gift for the express purpose of gawking at me. Sexual deviant of the best kind, my good friend. Owed him a favor so I obliged. Today, he collects."

"You're pulling my leg."

"You've been reading the idiom book I saw on your desk the other day!" She said with a laugh and a light knock against armor of his arm. "Unfortunately, I am very serious. You think they'll mistake me as stripper? Oh, maybe Aria will let me dance at the poles. Just like old times."

"You danced at the poles? Boss, we have to watch that!" Ripper yelled and he was ready to get his boots when the boss sent him a glare that planted his ass back down on the chair. "Fine, ruin a man's dreams."

"Legacy, you will go back up there and wear something less—this." He motioned at all of her.

"What? Are you my father now or something?" She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "Come on, Vakarian. I'm old enough to kick ass and take names. It's not as if I don't get asked out every ten steps in Afterlife anyway."

"You get asked out every ten steps? Don't people have more shame these days?"

She rolled her eyes. "I see you haven't read the whole book yet."

The boss breathed in and out, slowly. "Legacy, now that you're living here there are rules you have to follow. Protocol. I wouldn't let Mierin go out to Omega in—this." He motioned at her again.

"I thought the one rule in Archangel was no civilian casualties?"

"Well, we have two. That and no going out dressed like a hooker. Weaver breaks it all the time."

"Hah, now you're pulling my leg, Vakarian." She poked him on the chest and put a hand on her hip. "I can take care of myself. Big girl and all, daddy doesn't need to be so worried. Anyone who drags me into an alley would get the beating of his life. Plus, there is Aria and she can get pretty possessive."

"Hey, if the boss is the dad that means he and Aria are—okay, sorry boss, I won't say it." Butler moved back with his hands up in defeat.

The boss had this face, somewhat confused and angry at the same time. He also didn't know what to do with his hands (and no place to put the mugs) or his feet as he kept fidgeting. Legacy, on the other hand, stood one hip cocked to the side, waiting for some witty retort before she became impatient. "Well, I'm off. Send me a message when your wit finally catches up with you, dad. I have an ugly turian to please."

Silently and quickly, she was out the door and past Weaver who was sharp enough to catch sight of her and stare long and hard at her back before she vanished behind a tactical cloak. "Woah, does Legacy have a date or something because she is working those—"

"Do not complete that sentence if you know what's good for you, Weav." Melanis chuckled. Even with the glow of envy Erash saw in her eyes at the angry set the boss's face plates were in.

"I can't believe she doesn't think Sidonis is good looking." The boss grumbled.

Sensat rolled her eyes while laughing. "I'm sure you were talking about Sidonis, boss."

Erash then realized exactly what Legacy had intended to show them. Through the comm system, Erash laughed. "Boss, I think Legacy owns your soul."

Garrus glared at one of the cameras while taking a long drink from his coffee. Behind him, he glared at Vor and Mierin who were giggling at the machines and the mugs and belligerently called for the meeting to start.

* * *

Legacy had begun returning to the base late—home, Erash dared to think but couldn't say. Less because he wasn't sure if Legacy felt that way after only two weeks here and more because Erash might not be able to deal with the ramifications if he ever lost the base—home, his home in the end of the galaxy.

"I should have known you'd wait up for me."

"You've been coming back well into the night cycle." The boss was cleaning his Mantis sniper rifle: had lovingly taken it apart for maintenance and laid it on the table like a baby to the crib. "I was worried you were coming in injured."

"I'm alive, fortunately. Maybe a little hit." Legacy waved a bottle of red wine. Earth made, it seemed. And pricey as hell. He had been a fan of earth wine since Legacy had brought up a few glasses for them to share before, also very late into the night cycle. "But that's only because I finally don't have to drink the swill of Noverian rum Aria loves so much—finally found out what the hell she's been serving me. I don't know if it's the ice in Omega but it definitely tasted different when I was in Noveria the last few times."

Legacy took out a wine glass, popped the cork out of the wine before making her way to the table to pour herself some. She let it "open" as she told him, swirling the contents gently in one of crystal glasses of the set she bought just for the base. Subtly, she took a sip before nodding to herself, she took another. "Nothing like a Bordeaux to make you feel alive. 2135. Chateau Mouton Rothschild. Omega has the best stuff and it doesn't even know it."

"You seem to know more about wine than the average assassin. Mentor?"

"No," She smiled fondly behind her glass at him, the rim near her lips where Erash noted it had been painted a glowing pink. "The serious boyfriend. Learned it in secret to impress him—turns out I'm an actual oenophile and I've spent a good deal of my money on wine as I have on weapon mods so it didn't go to waste."

That had the boss struck, his hands gripping the cloth tightly as it wrinkled. Erash had to zoom the camera in to be sure but it was there. "You are the last person I would expect to want to impress anyone. Or need to."

She swished the contents of the wine more before she drank a little again. "Courtship was a new thing to me. Foreign. If you asked me how to kill a turian I would answer you in 35 different ways with 2367 variants but if you asked me about relationships: keeping them, being in them. Well, I was beyond lost."

"You barely need to be anyone but yourself to be impressive."

"You wouldn't know what I was like then." Legacy looked at the boss with glowing green eyes that even the ambient lights of the kitchen seem dull in comparison. "For all my faults, I knew there were things I could do to bring myself closer to him—anything would do. It was… nice."

"Hm. Sounds a lot healthier than my," He coughed. "Serious relationship—I'm sure you remember and I would rather not get into it with our favorite engineer probably listening in and very capable of ruining my integrity."

"He would never. He actually likes you."

"I tell myself that but there are days where I think he'd gladly join cult Legacy."

"There is no such thing and I would die before it happened." She pointed her empty glass at him before refilling it. The boss chuckled before going back to his gun to clean it. They spent a few moments in silence before Legacy's cheeks were turning pink and her eyes seemed to lose their knife edge. Humming under her breath, the boss heard Legacy's singing voice for the first time and turned to her—surprised, but a pleased sort of surprise as she looked at her reflection on the bottle of wine. He hummed back, a deep sound from his turian subharmonics that signaled pleasure.

"And where did you learn to sing?"

She smiled back. "My father. His— group there were songs in the old tongue. He taught them all to me. I used to love hearing him sing." She laughed. "And I think I learned it to impress him too!" Her smile widened at his concerned face. "Come on, Vakarian. Didn't you ever want to impress someone that if you weren't anything in their eyes your whole world would fall apart if you failed?"

The boss seemed to consider this, the parts of his beloved sniper rifle loose in his hands as he stared at her. Erash himself was unsure whether Legacy was aware of the intensity of the stare, not with the way she seemed to be falling asleep with the bottle nearly drained and paint of her own lipstick imprinted thickly against the rim of the glass. Layer over layer, adding color and depth into them. The boss stared at this imprint directly, aware that looking at anything else may get Legacy's head running and her unfocused eyes to train themselves at him, at the look on his face: the set of the plates, the set of his jaw as his mandible clicked tightly together.

Erash knew then, knew that he didn't have to talk to the boss about his feelings. It was plain for all to see if she looked but she didn't. Over the few short months that the boss knew her, spoke to her—Erash knew that at least the boss realized that his feelings towards Legacy were strong. And Erash would be damned but maybe he could call it infatuation, admiration. It would probably take the boss forever to realize what they were though but Erash wouldn't rush it, couldn't rush them.

Especially since Legacy herself was no open book and even all of Erash's four eyes couldn't penetrate what it was that she really felt for the boss.

And if she broke the boss's heart, even after he waited for her to fall asleep, tucking a little bit of her hair behind her ear before carrying her up at the steps—barely jostling her, and tucking her under covers before finally heading home; he tread lightly as he personally walked up to Erash's office to bid the batarian good night— by now Erash knew whose side he would choose and in a heartbeat.


	18. Chapter 15

_Sorry for the long wait. There may be another delay. Two weeks, at least as life takes over._

_I am also open to suggestions again as the Omega arc is closing. What direction would you like the fic to go, etc.? Getting oddly complicated thus—I am open to suggestions on the ME2 verse. I won't take them all but anything you think will help would be nice._

_See you in the next update._

Chapter 15

In a week, Archangel would be fully operational again. Normally, Garrus would be antsy and twitchy from the lack of activity but because of all the fuss Rachel—Shepard, he still couldn't believe she was Shepard—had added to his life he was never ever, really bored.

There were a lot of other changes that Shepard brought in. Quick improvements done to the base: the new cameras, the deactivated turrets, and some new tech Erash liked to stroke and coo at. He also noticed that none of it was coming out of his pocket. Sidonis had been overjoyed by her "involvement with Garrus," especially with everything she had been providing them . But Mel had scowled up at the cameras, threatened once to shoot some of them down just to see what happened.

Aside from Mel's obvious dislike, Shepard's rapport with the rest of Archangel was—interesting. Although she spent most of her days alone, early mornings were dedicated to conditioning and meditating—when Weaver was feeling up to being on time he would join her. But Rachel had never struck Garrus as sociable, so it was a surprise she had integrated herself into Archangel well.

She helped Mierin make coffee for everyone in the base, had lunch with the boys nearly every day to talk about… Garrus wasn't sure but all of them clammed up when he passed by so he stopped trying to join in (must have been some human thing). She visited Erash during her free time to talk shop and introduce him to whatever improvements she made and went shopping with Sensat because none of the other girls liked to go. What surprised him the most was that she was learning to—knit, frit? Grit?—from Grundan and every once in a while, engage in politics and Galactic chess with Sidonis.

The best part of the bargain had been when Legacy—Shepard—finally decided that she could help with a mission not as an informant but as a team player. The reason was actually an interesting story.

When they're schedule crossed just yesterday, he managed to talk Shepard into a shooting competition. They set up something standard and out of HQ. To keep them on their toes the decided the rules were that the fastest and most accurate shot won. First to fifty. The winner can get the loser to do anything.

It began even enough, both of them were fast. But just like Shepard had told him once during one of their little conversations, he had more flair for the rhythm than she did. When he played "Fire in the Courtyard" with his visor, the rhythm became even more compact.

However, what surprised him was that Shepard didn't need music to set her own pace. He turned to her and noticed the steady beat of her heart through his visor and how the bullets seemed to match the pauses in between. Precise like a machine Krul had described. Her body shook only slightly with the recoil of her gun. It surprised him. Even if she consisted of a lot toned muscle and strict conditioning, she was still a softer and lighter human.

But her form kept the recoil at a minimum, despite the sheer massive fire power of her rifle—which he knew was another unreleased prototype— how she had gotten her hands on it, he didn't know, but he was tempted to borrow it at least once. However, how she managed to cock and reload the rifle to keep up with him was a thing of beauty by itself. He was sure it had more to do with her lower body than just the strength of her shoulders and arms.

As he studied her stance he noted her long legs and her flaring hips below a slender waist. Ripper had said she had no excesses. Everything was so properly proportioned, at least to the view of a human.

But what Garrus saw was the battle honed body of a living weapon. Long legs with incredible strength and reach that made her kicks painful (he knew—he felt them) and her feet fast. Her hips allowed her immense flexibility in battle, both with the whiplash of her kicks and her dodging abilities. He recalled her spins, flips, side steps. Then her waist—he had to say he was more distracted by her waist than other parts of her. It wasn't really like Melanis's (she had a _really_ nice waist) or any other turian but he was sure that Shepard's slender waist would be full of muscle and yet no excess. But if he could just reach out to check—

He was still in rhythm with his shooting, but now that his eyes were off the target, he wasn't sure which part of his body he had control of.

When he realized he really _did_ just reach out to poke her waist, Shepard shrieked like she'd been stabbed. Pulling the trigger of her rifle as she did so, a powerful bullet went passed the target with a resounding bang.

Shepard turned to him, wide eyed. She slapped his hand away from her waist. He noted the twitch of her finger on the trigger of her rifle. "I'm sure you have an explanation ready for that."

"I got… curious. You're so— puny. I was wondering how you could stand the recoil." His eyes were wide with wonder at her reaction, but then he could barely hide his amusement as well. "Uh, why do you look so scared?"

"Vakarian—"

"Garrus."

"Whatever. Shit, I _missed _because of that!" She turned her eyes to the range and then glared back at him. "And it shouldn't count because you go around poking people in the middle of target practice." She put a hand on the side of her waist where he had poked her and took a few steps back like a wounded varren.

He knew that when the plates on his face shifted, he was smiling predatorily. "Shouldn't it count?"

The point was that even if her miss hadn't counted she was still three targets behind and especially fidgety since he poked her. She hadn't stopped glaring until now, when Archangel was preparing a full operation and they had to re-enter with a bang in a week.

She shrugged as she stood by the door of the board room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as the others stared at her. Garrus could barely hide his excitement. "Guess who decided to join us."

Shepard rolled her eyes at him. "A one-time thing, Vakarian."

"It sucks to lose bets, doesn't it, Legacy?"

"It sucks to play with a cheater, that's what." She kicked off the wall and moved closer to the table between Ripper and Sensat. Ripper made an obvious gesture of looking over his shoulder to get a look at her back side. Beside him, Mierin elbowed him in the gut and he grunted.

Rachel gave an amused side glance at Ripper before looking at Garrus. "So, what's the plan, Archangel? I have to say it's been a while since I've worked with a group. Especially one that I'm not leading myself."

"Are we clear about chain of command, Legacy?" He challenged, his subharmonics dropping low.

"Very clear, Vakarian. So long as you keep your hands where I can see them and we stay a few feet away from each other."

The silence that stretched inside the board room was a funny one. Garrus would have laughed himself if Melanis beside him hadn't looked ready to rip Shepard into meaty ribbons. Weaver was the one to recover first and clear his throat. "Is there something we should know, boss?"

"Yes," He said slowly. "But I don't think Legacy would appreciate it if I told anyone."

Melanis looked from him to Shepard, eyes narrowed. Shepard herself was unfazed and just crossed her arms, chin titled up. "Looking is harmless. It's touching that will get you in trouble." She shifted her full gaze to Ripper who looked away quickly and took a half step back. "Just a warning, Vakarian for the next time your alien curiosity takes over. I won't resist the call for blood."

He chuckled. "Noted, Legacy. Now, since we used up some twenty minutes already, let's get to business." He faced his team and all of them stood a little straighter. "This operation will begin in precisely six days and 12 hours. We're going after a slaver by the name of Kron Harga. According to Sidonis's Intel, he has about three warehouses full of slaves in the Zeta District, while he himself is up in some penthouse less than seven kilcks away. The plan is to hit them all at once. Free the slaves and kill Harga.

"We'll be hitting them simultaneously with four groups. The members will be decided based on skill se—"

Legacy put her hand up, slowly and lazily and he resisted the urge to snort when he titled his head as a gesture to allow her to speak. "Legacy?"

"Wouldn't it be better to hit the bases one at a time? Fast paced and successive strikes from top to bottom, we hit the head first and the rest of the body will follow. This way we don't spread ourselves too thin."

"I've thought of that but I wanted to prioritize the captives first. We need to get them out of there safe and kill Harga in the process."

"If we miss the head, and likely we will if we go about it your way," She countered, earning glares from a few of his team. "Then nothing will stop Harga from doing it again and doing it safer. The hunter who chases two rabbits catches neither one, as the saying goes."

"This is a common tactic as well, boss. Tried and true." Krul nodded. Typical of a salarian to follow sounder tactics, Garrus told himself not to feel annoyed. It's not that Krul never questioned his strategies before. "It would have more long run benefits if Harga were killed first."

"If we do it Legacy's way, the people could be taken hostage and we'd have a lot of civilian casualties." Garrus glared, leaning down on the table where a holo of the warehouse blueprints were spinning. "Archangel has one rule: no civilian casualties. Not one."

"Oh?" Shepard shifted her weight to the right, hip cocked. "What happened to the second one?"

He chuckled. "You broke it and now no one will listen to me." He motioned his head at Weaver. "Look at what he's wearing."

"Hey, hey." The man took a step back and his arms up in surrender. "I only try to be well dressed. I'm not about to put on some hooker heels."

Despite the mood, Shepard and a few others chuckled before the situation caught up with them.

"Testimony to Archangel's reputation: not one single civilian caught in any of their skirmishes." Shepard recited as if from a dossier read a hundred times before. She leaned down on the table, studying the holos in front of her. She pressed a few keys on her omni-tool and a visor of light came over here eyes—a graybox? "How about this then, we go with the idea of splitting your team but instead of 4 small forces we'll have two large ones." She pressed a few buttons again on her omni-tool and the holos shifted to bird's eye view. "Two teams can lead a pincer attack—starting points warehouse A and C and reconvening at B. Quick and quiet until they reach B and have the civilians out of harm's way—then start a clamor." She smiled. "I'm a fan of either fire or explosions.

"And Hagar?"

"Likely, Harga will send his people out to check the noise. If a large force of nearly 12 men were raiding his warehouses he'll likely send a whole lot of people. In the meantime, an infiltration team can—"

"Question and kill the boss at the penthouse." He nodded, his eyes that glowed with anticipation snapped to the holo infront of him. "Get the fodder out and you can have free reign for at least a few minutes. If we go with this, everything will need to be detailed from top to bottom, our time will be even stricter. Infiltration needs to be in and out. Defense and distraction needs to lead a hell lot of people out and evac as soon as the infiltration team is finished."

"Sounds complicated and risky." Melanis put her hands on her waist and titled her head up at Legacy. Her eyes burned bright and green.

"I hear danger helps your boss sleep at night." Legacy, not Shepard, grinned back. She was thoroughly amused by Melanis's anger though Melanis herself was completely unaware that she was being played. "Also, warehouse B happens to have a tunnel entrance at walking distance. Said entrance is connected to the Gozu District, a block away from the clinic of a certain doctor who wouldn't mind a little extra business."

Garrus head snapped to Shepard at that. "You're joking?"

"I'm updated with the underground of Omega." She nodded back, her grey box still on. "If you want, I can do some reconnaissance to be sure. Take some blueprints or pictures so you can see for yourself."

"Then that would make your plan ideal." Garrus whispered. "And the people can get out safely and quietly." He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Brilliant, really."

"What a flattering tongue." She chuckled. "Good of you to remind me why I liked you despite the unnecessary touching."

He leaned back, resting on one leg as he crossed his arms. His mandibles and face plates shifting into the human equivalent of a grin. "So, you admit you do like me?"

"Just stay more than two steps away from me and you're tolerable."

"It was just a poke."

"An unnecessary and uninvited one."

"You like it."

"Lord," Butler threw up his hands. Montaegue and Mierin laughed together. "Why don't you two just get married already?"

"Tell me we're talking about a literal poke and not a euphemism for something else?" Vortash laughed at Rachel's sour face. "Hey, at least you know what you want, ma'am. And better a turian than a vorcha."

Sidonis cleared his throat and put a hand on Garrus's shoulder. "We'll reconvene in a few hours with the group assignments and formations. Until then, start setting up for the mission. We have several days to gather more Intel and get back in shape." Everyone heard a dismissal but they all looked to Garrus and until he nodded they didn't make their way out the door.

The only ones who remained were himself and Shepard, and she crossed her arms and nodded. "Sorry about questioning your tactics."

"You're used to being in charge." He answered just as seriously. "I understand. None of my team questions my lead much. Sometimes Krul but even he relies on me to think on my feet when things become… awry."

"So did a certain friend of ours." She replied quietly. He realized she was talking about Alenko and didn't want Erash to overhear them through the bugs. In case he did, he wouldn't know precisely who she was referring to. "He spoke of your capabilities in a few of our meetings."

"Did he?"

"I think he'll be glad with what you did here. Even if—well, there were other places where you could have made a difference." She smiled at him, a strange one that had him glaring at her. Now she was referring to his training as a Spectre. It had taken him great pains to get into the program, even with the Commander's recommendation. He had to qualify and he was driven to succeed.

Frankly, that felt like lifetimes ago.

"Legacy, is there something you really want to say?"

Her smile didn't falter. "There's a possibility that Harga may be working for mutual enemies. Handing humans to them, according to an informant's Intel."

He stepped back. "How likely is it?"

"According to the findings of my informant? Huge. Number? Precisely 93.7 percent if I did my mental calculation right." She winked at his shocked expression. "Harga has one of the largest human markets in Omega. So far, the second colony hit was a human one as well."

His fists tightened at that. She was saying that it was likely the Collectors were getting human samples from Harga too. "And that's why you wanted to make sure he was going down."

"Not only that. We need to be the team that goes for the head."

"I can't have my team left alone for such a complicated near-military maneuver without me." He shook his head.

"What, you think they can't do it?"

"I have every confidence in my team." Garrus challenged her playful tone with a grin full of teeth. "But I worry. Even Ale—_he _was pretty paranoid even when everything was going right. And for me, barely anything goes right."

"Hey," She rounded the table and approached him. Despite her complaints about their proximity, there was real worry in her face and she didn't hesitate to reach out to put a hand on his forearm. Garrus closed his eyes just so he couldn't see. Was it pity in her voice? Would it be in her eyes? He really didn't want to know.

"You're doing just fine. One step at a time, Garrus."

He nodded back and said nothing. They lingered in the board room for a long while until Shepard tapped him in the shoulder and excused herself.


	19. Chapter 16

_Managed to get this in by the two week deadline, but just barely. Still fixing that outline though, huff. But lightning struck a few days ago. It's a matter of finding the mood of setting it down (been rough these days, life-wise). Writing and playing video games has been a comfort, especially the support from all you lovely readers and reviewers from all my current stories._

_Expect weekly updates and not early ones as I return to pace. Also, in the process of cleaning. Got to Chapter six. And working a one-shot prequel called Lore of One. Watch out for that one in the coming weeks/months. Especially Mordin fans._

_Hope this chapter finds you all well._

_Note: Rating changed to M for violence, mentions of non-con (nothing detailed, promise). And for the swearing. Just being safe._

Chapter 16

Shepard was determined that this mission go right.

Clues about the Collectors were finally starting to surface. Harga would prove it was the Collectors behind the two empty human colonies at present. Solid evidence. Or, he would prove that it wasn't the Collectors and they would all have to go back to the drawing board.

A lot was riding on this mission.

No, she told herself, it wasn't because of the face of a certain turian who needed some confidence.

If it was it would be a low priority. Very low in the face of what it would mean if there was Collector involvement.

She tried, difficult as it was, to shake off the concern. But it was hard to not find some kind of connection with the turian, with—Garrus, when she looked at him and saw her younger self. Barely 16 and fatherless, truly orphaned in a landscape of panic and rubble—lost and confused and without a guide. She only had the lessons Lor left behind and the phantom of her own making to replace her mentor.

It was stupid really, Va—Garrus was a grown man. He could handle himself: he packed his own bags, made it to Omega, and managed to stay afloat. It was slow progress but it was progress.

However, the fact that he went to Omega was worrisome. It was cruel place to begin again and more a place to end. Garrus wasn't Rachel or Shepard of some five years ago. He wasn't born in the dark, to the cloak. He grew up in Sunny Cipritine, in an esteemed family where rules and regulations made sense—and justice was the handler, the solution to every stain, every wrongdoing. He had said he was frustrated that in the Citadel he found red tape instead of the scale and the sword. When Alenko died, unlike the others of the ground team, he had no one to return to and he went to Omega.

He didn't even think of returning to Palaven. Rachel knew how rooted his father's image was rooted in the turian's brain. Almost as much as she saw and heard Lor, only with more grudging respect.

Not to begin, but to end. Garrus didn't seem to know this himself—at least, he would never word it that way when asked.

When Shepard "retired" and she took up the first name Lorraine, Omega was also her end of the line. She had torn up the Dominion: her family and friends, and wandered here. Upon entering, she learned the hard way that the queen had to be greeted first or else a lot of shooting and blood spilling would take place. But she had enjoyed it, the slow decimation of all the people Aria had sent her way—never returning to report in. Shepard didn't see Omega as a place to purge, she saw it as a playground—a summation of all the mind games she played and all the little tricks she knew.

It was nothing like her work in the Dominion, everything moved too slowly and too unskillfully. It was only when Aria had sent Nyreen Kandros and an asari by the name of Liselle. New pacts were formed then. And Lorraine thrived, breathed in the filth of Omega and blew it out like the smoke from a prized cigar.

Garrus Vakarian was no Shepard, no Lorraine. If they failed this—if she failed, then he might not be able to bounce back.

So, she did her homework as Legacy and more, she rechecked the tunnels—walked them back and forth and checked again where they surfaced and where they led. She put cameras up near the warehouses so Erash could find out their shifts and daily activities and routines. She used her own contracts to find out about Harga: his background and family. She returned to Archangel HQ, barely sleepy but tired. She didn't want the dreams to ruin her concentration, to derail her focus from the present.

Sensat had given her worried looks since she saw the scars in her hands. But it wasn't important, Shepard thought, she didn't have to tell any stories about them unless she was asked and she could easily lie. Grundan hadn't pried but he was a polite sort and Erash knew better than to ask.

This was important to Garrus, to his future here in Omega and maybe even after if he decided that he was not bringing ends but beginnings. He needed this to go _right_ after all the plans that have failed and led to Archangel's long sleep.

"You seem to be investing yourself."

Rachel looked up mid-move, her fingers still pinching the head of the holographic knight before she set it on the board silently. She slid further into the cushion of the upholstery, eyeing Sidoni Lantar in the usual calculating way she used to when she was part of Dominion and a turian grunt had spoken out of line.

Sidonis had a knack of sounding more condescending _than_ condescending, as impossible as that sounded. It was really no wonder Melanis would sooner bite his head off than ever apologize, temper be damned.

"Oh?"

"I hear you aren't doing much of the queen's chores." He made his move, moving one of the pawns on the far right forward, taking one of her own.

She responded by moving her bishop to eat the pawn. "Vakarian is a friend. And likeable. I tend to keeo those type of people alive."

"Hm."

She watched him move his own knight before she reached out, hovering above her rook before finally moving it to eat one of the detached pawns on the left side of the board. "What is it that you really wanted to say, Sidonis?"

"That," He didn't make his next move—only fixed a gaze on her that was attempted to drill right through her. She had thicker skin than that, however. "You may as well join Archangel."

"Oh?" She noted the shift of his face plates near his jaw: showing aggression at the repeated expression. She intended to do it again to annoy him.

"You've acclimatized fine enough. You work well with most of us. Frankly, I don't know why Garrus hasn't extended the invitation yet."

"I work alone. He respects that."

"Now. As far as you've mentioned, you know how to work and lead a team. And I know by our chess games and our conversations that you're reasonably intelligent."

"Oh?" She needed to ask Erash for a copy of this conversation. Just so she could replay this angry expression he was seeing on his face right now. "I'm guessing the only person you haven't patronized is Vakarian—otherwise, you wouldn't be where you are now."

His eyes sharpened and he moved his knight to eat the rook. In turn, she moved her bishop to take his knight. "Think about it. We work well together."

"We?"

"You and Archangel. You understand."

Her eyes narrowed at the nuance of his dual-tone. She knew enough about turian voices to hear the ownership there. "I'd rather not."

"Give it some more thought."

She looked away from him slowly to study the board, shimmering white and blue. She predicted that she could take him down in under four moves. She wondered how much forethought he ever put into the chess games or if it was a ruse to make it appear as if they got along.

She wondered how Garrus interpreted any of this, and if he knew that his second-in-command saw himself as _the_ Archangel as well.

She didn't reply, only playing her three moves and ending the game. All the while, Sidonis kept his eyes keenly on her.

* * *

"There's something we need to discuss."

Garrus looked up from the datapads prepared for him by both Shepard and Sidonis. The former walked into the board room and locked the door behind her. Without any prompting from Garrus, she waved at the surveillance cameras and the blinking lights from them went dark. He laughed, it seemed she had Erash in her back pocket. Either that or she made an exceptional bribe, Garrus would bet a krogan's quad it was that new omni-tool out in the market now.

"What is it, Shepard?" He noted if she would recoil from the use of her name but she hummed, turning away.

"It's about the operation." She leaned against the desk, back to him. She crossed her arms. "You really won't accompany me to meet Harga?"

"I need to go where I can do the most good." He looked back at the datapads. "Frankly, the idea of fitting into air ducts and bending one two many ways isn't very appealing to me. Fire fights are more my thing."

He could hear the amusement in her laugh. "We need that evidence. Assign me another man."

"You okay with that?"

"As long as he can keep up. And I know that Weaver been to at least N4. I see it in his bearing. He'll do fine. As you said, we need to know the truth."

"We do, Shepard. And I know you can get it."

She nodded. "There's a possibility that he knows nothing too."

"Hey, what was that saying?" He looked up at the ceiling. "Where there's smoke-"

"There's fire. Hah, you have been reading the book."

"I live to please." He bowed his head mockingly at her when she turned around to face him. "We'll know. Really know. And then all the work the Commander wanted to accomplish- well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

She mock clapped at his use of euphemism. "Something tells me you want to discuss something else as well, though."

"Yeah." Her eyes shifted a bit before finally settling on him. "Who's leading team two?"

"Sidonis," He answered readily. "Who else would it be?"

Humans usually went through all sort of expressions and colors. But Shepard's hardly ever changed, even her smile looked the same. He only noted the added steel that reflected in her eyes the way turian armor often glinted at the sight of danger. "Don't want to give another person the spotlight?"

"Hm. I was thinking Mel, she has a good head on her shoulders. And even Grundan. He's led a team once before."

"Ah, he was former Alliance too before he decided to quit." She nodded.

"Did he tell you that?"

She chuckled. Maybe he let on the curiosity in his sub-vocals a little too quickly. "We have late night cocoa together sometimes. And the knitting is an interesting hobby."

"Right." Garrus coughed. "But Sidonis stays."

"Any of the two would make good choices."

"His experience leading Archangel. We need the coordination to get this done." He studied the blank look on her face longer and could read nothing there. "Why?"

"I already told you about how you may be delegating too much to Sidonis, right?"

"And I heard." He felt his own face plates shift and his talons. "This is barely your team, though."

"Krul said you have to know the difference, right?" She sighed. He waited for her to argue but Shepard only shrugged. "Let's go over the plan again."

Garrus worried about the way she gave in to that argument too fast. Too fast for something she liked to mention every time she had too much to drink. He shook off his worry, however, and set his eyes on the datapads. "We'll go through your info again. Let's start."

* * *

Twenty minutes into the operation and everything was going as planned. Phantom team which consisted of herself and Weaver managed to slip into the building and climb into ducts and run up emergency staircases to avoid cameras and guards. The penthouse was located on the 21st floor, they made it halfway before they apprehended two of the kitchen staff, knocked them out, took their clothes, and stashed their bodies.

They all had another twenty minutes before a scheduled report to the penthouse was due, they needed at least ten to set up and get all the people out of the warehouses and out of harm's way.

Shepard had a good amount of foresight to know that for a job like this, armor would be a nuisance. Of course, Garrus had put up a fuss for the worst case scenarios stating that: "I know you can dodge bullets, Legacy. But Weaver isn't as amazing."

She raised an eyebrow at that, hand on her waist. "You think I'm amazing?"

He chuckled. "You know it."

She laughed back. "I'll keep the man safe, Vakarian. No armor, we'll be fine. I'm not naked or anything, the skin suit can deploy at least two rounds of medi-gel."

"Yes, because what you're wearing now leaves a lot to the imagination."

She rolled her eyes. "All right, dad. You're boy can keep his hands to himself, won't you, Weaver?"

"Ah, yeah. Yes. Huh." Weaver managed to shake off his staring long enough to look at Garrus in the eye. "Just looking. Looking is nice enough."

Garrus's eyes narrowed at that but she slapped him on the shoulder. She gestured with her fore and middle fingers, pointing at her two eyes and then at his. "Focus, Vakarian. We can do this. _You_ can do this."

They waited in their new uniforms, their skin suits under them. They've studied together what habits Harga had and at precisely seventeen-hundred hours Harga called in for some food. At the moment, while the two of them walked into the elevator, unnoticed by the guards on duty with a cart of food and a bottle of Merlot, teams Beta and Alpha had approximately 20 minutes to evac the civilians into the tunnels before they started an outrageous firefight.

"All smooth for now," Sidonis reported in through her comm with more then a little flair to his flanging that she recognized as military chest-pounding, as Mordin liked to call it. "Heading to warehouse B, total number of rescued is eight. All human. Sending Grundan to lead them to the tunnel opening. ETA to warehouse B seven minutes, will be on standby until instructed otherwise."

"I read, Beta." Garrus answered. "Have ten with me, all human. Sending Mierin to the tunnel with them to go ahead. ETA to warehouse B five minutes. Begin infiltration the moment you hit warehouse B, Beta."

"Heard Alpha, nearing location."

"Noted, Beta. Phantom?"

Legacy smiled at Weaver who grinned back. They were aware of that the whole building was bugged and would have to look like they were talking to each other if they had to say anything at all. "Dinner is about to be served. Three minutes before it gets cold." The elevator climbed up the penthouse. There were only two guard station there and Harga was only accompanied by the occasional hooker—or worse, one of his smuggled goods.

Harga was wrapped up in nothing but a bathrobe while looking out the large windows that replaced solid walls, looking down with the warehouses in his sights. All they could make out of him was his back and white hair as they set up his table for his meal. The ruby red liquid of the wine he held caught the light of the restless Omega.

"Quiet tonight. Moris, have you checked in on the warehouses?" He asked one of the men standing guard. He barely looked at the two infiltrators as he made his way toward his boss.

"Same time as always, sir. About 12 minutes ago. Nothing off to report."

"Hm. Check in on them now. Omega is never this quiet."

Weaver mouthed an "Oh shit" that Legacy could read even with her eyes closed. Harga wasn't one of the most successful slavers by being stupid or lucky, it seemed.

She steeled her nerves, however, and her face remained expressionless. Shadows worked with at least 30 percent improvisation, after all. Looking up with a smile, adjusting the skirt she wore, she approached Harga with the clicking of her heels. She activated her comm so that Garrus and Sidonis could hear that they should pick up the pace "Sir, would you like to sample the wine or shall I just pour it?"

Harga turned to look at her. He studied her face and his grin widened. "What do you have for me, sommelier?"

"What is happening up there, Phantom?" Garrus's voice crackled in. Weaver behind her had just finish setting up the table before he pulled out two glasses and the Merlot that had been in the ice bucket. He handed it to her carefully and she nodded her thanks.

"Leave us." Harga ordered roughly. Legacy nodded at the near wide eyed look Weaver was giving her. She motioned at the direction of the guards behind the large aquarium that had replaced a wall, silently telling him to take care of that. Weaver smiled, nodded, and began walking away.

"New Contact wine from Tiptree. A 2169 vintage. Would you like to discern for yourself the taste before you dinner is served?"

Harga walked toward her, too close for comfort that Legacy resisted the urge to reach for the knife she strapped to her leg. "I'd like your opinion on the taste as well, sommelier." He whispered into her ear, right into her comm.

She stepped away to pour the wine before she heard Garrus cuss in his own language. "We're going double time, Beta. Harga is on to us. Phantom is distracting him."

"I heard, Alpha. Count 12 people, all human. Moving in to infiltrate."

"Met with Grundan, boss." Mierin's voice crackled despite the thick wall so the tunnels. "People all accounted for. ETA to Gozu is twenty minutes."

"Excellent. Setting up the distraction now. Beta, be ready to extract. Phantom—"

She had poured the wine into her own glass, noted the color in the light. "A fine red, ruby against the light." She swirled its contents and breathed in the smell of sweet grapes inside. "A young scent for its vintage: a mix of summer fruit and subtle spice. A property of Tiptree Merlot grapes." She took her sip, rolled it in her tongue. "Ah, but with a superb and mature taste for its year."

"Not disappointing then?" Harga took a hold of her waist and took her glass from her hand before he his own shadowed hers. His grip was rough and heavy. She was assured he wouldn't see the large scars on her as she had hidden them with cosmetics but the fact that he touched it—

When she heard two bodies drop and Harga looked away from her for a brief second, she didn't hesitate to kick him in the gut and slam his head down on the table. He lifted his head to scream but she banged it thrice and watched the blood run down his forehead.

"Secured," She said through the comm as she held Harga's hands behind his back. Weaver came back, pressing buttons on Moris's omni-tool. "Alpha, Beta."

"Beta team copies." Sidonis answered. "Securing people down the tunnel. Alpha left behind as defensive line. No response from Alpha."

"Alpha? Do you copy?" She asked and nothing but static came out. She turned to Weaver and he nodded.

"Men, what's going on?" Weaver asked through Morris's comm.

"We've got them, boss. It looks like Archangel is trying to get in on our supplies." There was the distinct sound of gunfire and explosions. "Just the bastards won't die."

"There seems to be some trouble over at warehouse C. Send men there immediately." Weaver winked at Legacy and she smiled back when the lieutenant said he'd do what he was told. All they'd find in warehouse C were dead comrades.

"Alpha, do you copy? We got some of them off you."

"Re-read, ja-jammers are bl-bl-blowing sta-stat- static." Shepard sighed at the sound of his voice. "Le-leaving through the tu-tu-tunnels in three. That gi-gives you t-ten min-minutes, Pha-Phan-tom."

A wave of relief cam over her, one she couldn't control. An argument was at the tip of her tongue but she quenched it. There was a mission now. "Understood. Erash," She said over the comm while she dragged Hagar into a chair. "Head to LZ."

"Copied, Phantom. Heading to LZ. ETA eight minutes."

Weaver secured Hagar's hands and tied him to a chair. Shepard turned her comm off. "Weaver, it's very important you not discuss anything you hear now. Your boss trusted that you would keep this secret. Am I clear?"

"He did mention something like that." He turned off his own comm. "I'm not allowed to ask questions, either."

She smiled. "Good man. Please stay by the door as look out."

"Got it, ma'am."

When Weaver left, Shepard turned to Hagar, she slapped him awake until he came to with a start and a gasp. She took the only wepon she brought, a pistol that only carried a handful of bullets and didn't have much bite but with the man with no shields and at point blank range she could blow his head clean off his shoulders.

"Are you working for the Collectors?"

Most confessed at this moment but Hagar was human who made a living selling people. His heart was closed, a businessman of pure profit—intelligent and severe. He wasn't someone to back down from the challenge as his market was already being successfully run by batarians and seedy merc groups.

"Fuck you."

Rachel or Lorraine, neither of these identities would do. She knew that for this mission, for this moment she had to be Shepard of the Dominion. She hit him on the side of the head with the heel of her hand. "Are you working for the Collectors?"

Shepard had been the head of these sessions. All the secrets had to be heard by her and nothing could or should pass her own eyes or ears. Rachel told herself that she didn't enjoy it—the look of pain in a man's eyes, the sound of his screams, the scent of blood but sometimes—sometimes she did.

Shepard did.

Normally, she would take her time with threats. But she really didn't have the time. Shepard took over, as she did when she was in the Dominion.

"Hit me. Kill me." Harga laughed and coughed all at once. "My men will know something is up and they'll come running. You're not going to get shit, you fucking cunt." He spat down at her shoes and laughed again.

"Really?" She asked slowly, her voice timbers lower. "I wonder if your daughter can handle it."

Harga's whole body froze and his eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"You didn't think I didn't know about your daughter Harga? Don't think I know where she goes to school, cared for by a nanny in Shanghai? How she's waiting for daddy to come home?" Shepard smiled at her pause. "I wonder how she's going to feel when I come by instead. How easy it will to—" She laughed as she imagined what she could do, how Shepard could hurt her. She knew it would be in her face and Harga would see it there.

"You can't. You're bluffing."

"Regine Harga." She said. "Brown eyes. Brunette. A bear name Claude that she carries everywhere. Maybe I can treat her the way you do your cargo. The things you've done to them. The things you've use them for."

"You're lying."

She smiled, her fingers silently going over her omni-tool. She hacked into his own omni-tool so he could hear as well.

"Hello?" A small voice said through the line. "Daddy? Is that you?"

"Regine!" His daughter couldn't hear him. Shepard made sure of that.

"Daddy, there are some men here. They-"

When Shepard cut the line, that's when she knew she had him, when he was reduced to nothing but tears. Harga now was the coward underneath the shit as he spilled everything he knew. It was the Shadow Broker who got him this deal. It was the Collectors who told the Broker to get human samples. He had no clue what he was trying to do with them, however.

What was surprising was he revealed that it wasn't only human samples being sent to the Collectors. Other races were being rounded up, according to his spies. Proof was in his omni-tool. Summary of them so far were a asari and turians. Shepard cussed mentally, she needed to get Nyreen to speed things up then.

Then he begged for death and he begged, please, god— don't hurt my little girl. He would tell her anything, just not Regine—not Regine.

Shepard stored the clips of data he motioned were in his omni-tool. Then she patched another call in as he wriggled from his binds and cried.

"Do it," she simply said. She patched the audio into Harga's omni-tool. To let him hear his daughter: crying, screaming.

All this before she shot him twice between the eyes. His face a mess of tears and pain, his eyes wide open.

As they went up to the roof, Erash in the shuttle waiting for them, Weaver looked one look at her and the blood she was covered in and asked nothing. Only his face gave away everything he felt, and Legacy couldn't speak to him now. Even as Shepard slowly faded away.

Hagar's blood slid down her face as the shuttle rose up. Rachel looked down at her hands, remembered the way his touch had lingered and told herself she deserved to enjoy that and he deserved to suffer for it, banishing Regine from her thoughts.


	20. Chapter 17

A thousand apologies. My grandfather passed away. The days have been blending. And, well, I hadn't realized I hadn't posted an update.

Also note: This story is**_ looking for a temp beta_** (but if it works out well, we could talk long term). If you know anyone or would like to do it: just PM. I would like someone whose familiar with Mass Effect Lore, has excellent grammar and a keen eye for it, and most importantly: on time, efficient, trustworthy, and friendly. Link me a story you've beta-ed in the past too. A big plus if the story is awesome. :))

I hope this chapter find you well.

Chapter 17

"We need to assemble a team. We can't do all of this as fast as we need to."

Shepard paced across Nyreen Kandros who sat across her, easily keeping her balance on a blown up and ill-repaired pipe. This part of the tunnels was always dank, and even a wandering vorcha wouldn't want to come near the awful smell that emitted from some of the busted waterways.

As if former Black Ops agents actually gave a kilxen's ass. Having rolled in worse things, none Shepard liked to remember.

"I can't believe I heard those words come right out of your mouth." Kandros's sub-vocals reverberated with amusement. "You even hated working with the Dominion sometimes."

"They complained about stupid things. Zachrael always talked about how his suit was never the right shade of red." Kandros snickered and Shepard passed her a datapad she had in her pack "Speaking of which, he took care of the nuisance in the Alliance. He won't be looking for the First Seven again."

Kandros took the datapad, a few seconds into reading it she tossed it back with a frustrated growl. "Humans seem to always choose the most inhumane way to end someone's life."

"Why fit the punishment to the crime? Dead is dead."

"Have one of your own pose as his lover? Have him betray the man, shoot him at point blank range? Have the lover arrested based on planted evidence?" Kandros continued with her eyes glowed with the sharpness of a knife's edge. "I know it's been years since we've question each other's ethics but—"

"You don't think I know how far Shepard can go?" Was her deadpanned answer, but behind her eyes she saw Harga crying and she heard Regine screaming. "But this is something Zachrael decided, his method, and he got it done."

Kandros's mandibles clicked together. They spent several moments of silence before she hummed. Leaning forward, elbows on her thighs and head bowed. Apparently, the subject was dropped. "Are you planning to assemble the Dominion for this?"

Shepard shook her head, no. "It's too early. They need to be where they are."

"They're your extra pair of eyes and ears." Kandros nodded. "I understand."

"More than that. But they'll come running if I call them. But it isn't that time yet, Kandros. They're good where they are until then."

"If only the Cabal was as organized then." Kandros tossed her one of the datapads she had in a pile. "The planting is taking a while, old grudges and all."

"About that then," She tossed it back and pressed a few buttons in her omni-tool. Sending you some evidence, real evidence. You're not going to like it."

Kandros hummed as the message reached her private and secure line. "Spirits, you're not serious."

"Seems like the Collectors have made humans their priority but turians and asari aren't exempted." Shepard nodded. "A slaver by the nickname Dreggs: a turian with an impressive military recorded before being discharged. Something about—issues relating to others. Anyway, he schedules monthly visits to Palaven. According to Harga's notes, he's the most likely the Collector's contact for turian samples."

"Where is he getting the turians?"

"His favorite spots? Where people won't normally look." She pressed a few buttons on her omni-tool again. "Mostly the more silent colonies, then he moves them about. Jumps them from human and asari colonies, mostly. Very difficult to track, even Harga's network hasn't caught the exact places."

"And yours?"

Shepard grinned. "Better luck. We'll have a pattern up in a couple of months, I hope."

"That's too much time. I need to get this to the Hierarchy."

"And then what? They'll just jump right in and believe that the Collector's exist? That this isn't just some human problem, as the Council thinks it is." Rachel's eyes narrowed, remembering the news from her Alliance contacts.

"I believed."

Shepard didn't mean to laugh, though it came out more like bark than anything with any real mirth. "Err on the side of caution. The Hierarchy didn't accept the Commander Alenko's word about the Reapers. And even you only half-believed that."

"Legacy," Nyreen stood up from her seat. Her talons dulled but still the poke to her shoulder had her take a step back. "Many innocent people are being— they're being abducted, likely killed. By some urban legend less than half the galaxy population thinks exists. But you have solid evidence now, the Hierarchy needs to move."

"It's not going to be that simple, Kandros." Shepard motioned at the tunnels, her arms stretched out. "Look around you, don't you remember why you left Palaven and why you left the Cabal? Just so you know, since you've been living under a rock, it hasn't changed all that much."

Kandros gave her this look, like she wanted to argue and her mouth was open to retort but instead she clicked them shut and looked away. "You're saying we need harder evidence."

"And a pair of eyes who'll see the horrors, someone they'll believe."

"They'll believe Shepard."

"No."

Nyreen tilted her head. "Why? Going rogue doesn't stop Shepard from being efficient."

"Kandros—" Rachel looked away."

"Did," Kandros leaned forward. "Did something happen?"

"Nyreen," RacheI exhaled. "I don't want to disappear."

Kandros said nothing at first, only leaving her seat to approach her friend, her long time comrade. She slowly put her hands on Legacy's shoulders, making sure their eyes connected and didn't stray. "She is only a persona, someone you created. A mask you wear. Just like the hundred others you've created."

"I know."

"She is just another part of you. A small part of you."

"I know."

"Don't be afraid of the darkness."

Rachel held back a strangled cry, only she leaned her forehead against her friend's shoulder. The fingers of her left hand went over her right ones, managing to feel even through the gloves the old scars there, her mind going over the lesson that had been ingrained at its creation. Squashing the memories of Harga, the way he went over them as if he had her permission.

"I need to leave Archangel." Rachel held her breath. "Staying— it's getting dangerous."

Kandros's grip on her shoulder tightened a fraction but only for a second.

They would go over the rest of the plan. All the things Kandros would need to do.

But later, Rachel thought. Worry about everything later.

* * *

Things changed after the misson. Garrus told himself he understood but none of it made any sense. It had been a week and he'd read and heard Shepard's report but she didn't meet his eyes the whole time. She'd told him that the Collectors were on the prowl and it was time that she started moving as well. He wanted to know what she had meant, but she didn't need his dismissal to leave the board room before they were done.

Despite the fact that Shepard lived in Archangel HQ, he now barely saw her. He was thinking that after everything he knew about her, she'd soften up a bit. Instead, she looked at him neutrally behind the mask of Legacy, nodded at him politely, barely stopping to talk. Legacy had stepped up in earnest, her influence in Omega increasing. He didn't leave HQ or his apartment without some whisper about Aria's prophet.

Legacy was always on her feet, sometimes gone for days before coming back looking a little more worn and a little more tired. In rare mornings where he told himself to get up earlier to catch her, she would be in the lower levels of the base, cameras and lights off. She had informed Erash to make sure no one came in because she was meditating—training—something about the maintenance of the body because there was so much work to do and she needed to be in top shape despite the lack of rest.

"It's a miracle you lived by yourself for so long. You look like you're about to pass out." Sensat observed, on a rare day that Garrus had caught Legacy while she was in the lower levels—she was being forced to eat by the asari who stood in front of the woman with her arms crossed. Garrus had been impressed that the Sensat had managed to strong arm Shepard into doing something she obviously thought she didn't have time to do.

He hadn't entered the room though, choosing instead to lean against the door frame and wait. Telling himself that what he was doing wasn't another form of dishonesty, and that he shouldn't feel that he was intruding because—hey, they didn't bother to close the door.

They were the only three in the base (save Erash who barely left) as Sidonis had taken the team for some action to get them back into shape—and to let the mercs know that Archangel was back in full force, especially since they've dealt with Hagar thoroughly.

"I ran out of stims."

"You could become dependent on those."

Shepard shrugged. "Too late." She poked at something that looked like a paste of yellow vomit to Garrus. Erash had told him that Sensat's cooking was decent but at least Nalah made levo look tasty even to him.

"Just what have you been doing that needs to run you ragged?"

"The next step of a very important project. One that should be completed soon." Shepard answered, from the door he could only see the back of her head but he noticed her shoulders were stiffening and her back straightening. His eyes narrowed. Reapers, it was the project she was investigating about the Reapers, he was sure. "Before then, there are many things I have to do before I leave Omega."

He froze behind the door frame. Was that what she meant by starting to move?

"What?" Sensat took the words right out of him. "Will Aria even let you?"

"I don't think she can stop me, even if she blew up every ship in the docks." He could hear the smile in her words. "I'm predicting I'll be gone in a couple of months' time. I'm just making sure I have everything set before I go."

Sensat looked about ready to burst into tears when he took a small peek at her. It had been strange how easily attached she had become to Shepard, despite how little she knew of her past. It was probably that asari thing. Or just that Sensat thing. "It's only been a few weeks since you've lived here and you're moving already?"

Shepard sounded apologetic. "This was never a permanent thing."

Sensat was still frowning. "But, what about your hair? And shopping? Mierin hates that stuff and Melanis gives me this 'What's wrong with you?' look on her face, like I'm some kind of talking klixen."

Shepard let out a very airy chuckle. "You did spend a lot of my credits on hair products for me. I'm never going to use them, you know."

"But they made your hair so soft." With that Sensat reached for Shepard's dark hair, he had marveled at the red sheen of it too, now Garrus wondered what the asari meant by soft. "When I touched it the first time it felt icky."

"You didn't touch it, you _pulled _it. And," Shepard tugged her hair out of Sensat's hands. "I hadn't showered in a few days, of course it was going to be vile—Omega's tunnels aren't actually clean and pristine."

"Tunnels? Ah, the ones we used when we went after Hagar. The boss said you showed him some other paths from here to Afterlife."

"Yes, I have a contact who lives down there. Setting things up for me as well for when I have to get moving. Time is slipping away from me."

Sensat sighed. She knelt down in front of Shepard—taking the tray of food from her lap as she did so. She moved closer towards Shepard so that their figures lined into one before she leaned her forehead on Shepard's.

Garrus swallowed at the sight of that, the gesture was so intimate—so revealing in turian culture. He hadn't failed to notice that it was also very uncomfortable for Shepard, who knew too much about aliens. She had balked but Sensat held her strongly in place, hands and arms glowing blue with her biotics.

"Is time really slipping away from you?" Sensat whispered but it was loud enough that his sharp ears had picked it up.

"Sensat," There was a warning tone to Shepard's voice. In a fight between a powerful biotic like Sensat and a clever and agile Shepard, he wondered who would win. Right now, he didn't want to find out. "I don't need your mind-reading asari shit. Let. Go."

Sensat moved back but didn't let go. Her face was calm but her eyes shone with hurt. "Are you just waiting to die?"

"I'm not ready to die." She didn't say the words, _not yet. _Garrus hoped it was not meant to be added for a reason.

"Because there are things you have to do?"

"No, because I haven't sat down and waited for it to come to me." She hissed. "I'm not playing this game with you, Sensat. If you don't let go of me, I will hurt you."

"It must be painful for you to trust others, Legacy. The scars on your hands—"

"These scars—"

"You did them to yourself, didn't you?"

When Shepard—no, when Legacy struck, it was fast. Faster than the time it took for Sensat to summon her biotics. In a ruthless, cruel way she had kicked the asari on the chest and Garrus heard the crack as Sensat fell and slid back, clutching her chest with a groan that had her whole body bowed forward. A broken rib must be the least of it.

"Don't claim to understand me, Sensat." Legacy had stood up then, looking down as the asari looked up at her. Sensat's eyes were full of unshed tears. "Not everything awful involves pain."

"I hear you dream." The tears fell, freely and without scorn. A cord inside of Garrus resounded then. How dare Shep—Legacy do this? To someone who was only trying to help her? To the nicest person Garrus has ever really known? "And all the nights you spend awake so you don't have to fall asleep to them."

"You're not the first person—not the first asari—to claim you can help me, heal me, and even change me. But as far as I'm concerned, I've asked for no one's sympathy. These dreams remind me of what I can do and what I can't."

"They afflict you, they haunt you—"

"They warn me. Tell me about the things I can and can't have."

Sensat sobbed then, her eyes closing as she shook her head. "Goddess, Legacy—you're so broken. You're so broken and you don't even know it."

"And what? You think you can fix me?"

"You know someone can!" Sensat yelled back, her eyes still wet but narrowed and bright. "Talk to someone—me, Dr. Solus—Garrus—"

Legacy turned away then, moving towards the exit where Garrus stood and hadn't bothered to move. When she did step beside the door frame, right next to him, he glared at the side of her head. He was going through the entire conversation in his mind, spinning it around, trying to make sense out of it. He looked down at her hands, wondered about the scars before shaking himself mentally for trying to defend Legacy: that she just didn't want anyone getting too close because they could die and it would be her fault.

But Sensat had seen something deeper, past the bones and into the Spirit that watched over Shepard—the Spirit that demanded her to be this solitary figure, the single shadow that had been cast by no known figure. Even when Spirits were not supposed to intercede in anyone's life, she had let one rule her.

"I could kill you." He whispered.

"You could try."

"Boss—"

Garrus growled, subharmonics trilling sharply at Sensat to be quiet. "You don't have to defend her, Sensat. I saw what happened. Legacy, I'd like to ask you to leave the premises immediately."

"Is that a command, Vakarian?"

"If you're not out of here by the next half hour—"

"A simple yes or no would have sufficed." Legacy's boots padded forward and up the stairs.

"No, boss!" Sensat stood up then. "She can't leave. She needs—"

"Drop it, Sensat." He spoke softly to her as he watched Legacy vanish up the stairs. "She doesn't want our help."

* * *

"Time flies when there's no one to watch over," Rachel told herself that this was something Lor had told her once before. Frankly, she was lying to herself.

The next two months she spent in Omega were a strange blur. Vakarian had pinged in that he no longer needed her Intel, as he had spent the two months improving that system already. She hadn't replied to that, but then maybe she should have so at least they would technically still be talking.

She did her visits to Mordin's clinic every other day when the dreams became worse—looping and nonsensical, barely memories like they usually were. He had banned her from the stims but instead gave her immune boosters and pills that would make her forget the nightmares.

"Dreams linked with your stress levels, Shepard. Cause is likely psycho-somatic. Moment you're happy, surely, no bad dreams. Pretty straight forward."

She smirked. "I am a straight shooter. Even my dreams don't dawdle."

"Did something happen? Trigger old trauma?"

"A little." She sighed. "I had to be Shepard for a while."

"Hm." He passed her a few pills. "You are always Shepard."

"No," She smiled. "Not always."

She didn't expect Mordin to understand what she meant. She had tried to explain it to him before but he reduced it to some medical-psychological jargon. Really, salarians. "You—are you fighting with the turian?"

She rolled her right shoulder. "More like a falling out. We're not likely to talk much in the future. I hurt one of his— family. Understandable. I'd probably kill me already if I was in his place, he's showing me mercy."

"How much of the truth did you tell him?"

She looked directly into Mordin's eyes. "Too much."

He blinked at her. "Will you kill him? Or shall I?"

"The turian has some integrity. He'll keep the info so long as he thinks he owes it to his commander." When she stood from her seat, she stretched. "And Archangel is back on the streets. If I know him, he'll ignore everything I told him to do and go back too fast and too strong. I'm banking Omega will kill him."

"Shepard," Mordin said quietly. "Do you want Omega to kill the turian?"

"I don't know." She answered with her arms crossed and a shrug. "But I hope it's a good death. A worthy death."

She was also finishing things with Patriarch, the jobs he had wanted her to do were simple next to the one about the vorcha—most of them assassinations of figures that Aria had neglected because they looked non-threatening but Patriarch claimed he knew better. In exchange, he had given her to connections to clan Urdnot in Tuchanka. No doubt ruled by Wrex, she'd heard he was already setting up a movement to unite the other clans. If she could help with that and not get killed, maybe Wrex and other krogans would prepare as a unified whole for the Reaper threat or the more immediate Collector one. In the mean time, Kandros would work on the Hierarchy.

When she moved up the stairs to Aria's floor of Afterlife, she had slung her pack and her rifles over one shoulder. The boot heels clicked over to where Grizz stood and he stared at her—then down at her legs and his face plates shifted into the equivalent of a grin.

"Never gets old, Legs."

"Of course. This is goodbye, Grizz."

"For now." He hummed. "Omega will always have a place for the best."

She smiled. "For now. Try not to die."

She felt his eyes on her as she moved up the stairs she, spotted Aria with her legs crossed and her arms on the back rest of her sofa. Rachel didn't hesitate to take her seat.

"So, this is the end of us?" Aria said in a bored tone.

"I could almost cry."

Aria smirked. "You wouldn't though."

"If you cry first maybe I will." Rachel grinned back.

Aria shook her head. "We'll keep each other's tabs open. For now, you've done enough. We'll look into your little—Collector problem." Her face became dark. "Hate those little shits on Omega as much as the next person who actually knows they exist.."

Rachel nodded. "I would appreciate that, Aria. Can you also—"

"Get a stand in for Legacy?" Aria called for a drink. One for both of them and despite the shitty taste of the Omega equivalent of Noverian rum—it might be the last drink she'll share with a friend for a while. "Liselle just came back from an assignment. I'm sure she'd love to try and fill your shoes."

"Hah, that old brat?" Legacy held took the drink from the krogan with a small thanks. Liselle had been in an out-of-Omega mission in Thessia. She wasn't like most asari, she wasn't high on Rachel as a lot of them seemed to be. She was more like her mother, Aria, (a surprisingly well-kept secret) but without the cold air. Definitely, not as interesting or as charming as Aria herself, though. "Has she even improved?"

"She's eager to try." Aria shook her drink, the rock of ice clunked against the sides of the glass. "Long way to go."

"Well, Legacy is the bastard daughter you should have had."

"That she is." Aria looked into her eyes. Rachel didn't want to read into them and be right about what she would find there. "You watch yourself in krogan hell. I'll try to take care of the turian."

"Don't try too hard."

"Please." Aria lifted her glass, calling for Rachel to toast on it. "I wasn't the one watching his ass for months straight."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the obvious provocation. "It had a pretty amazing view. You should know, you've been with one or two turians within this century."

"Shut up you punk and let's toast already."

Rachel chuckled. Their glasses clinked against each other before they both took the drink down hard, letting it burn down their throats in gulps of fire.

* * *

It had occurred to Garrus that he wasn't entirely sure what he was mad about. The fact that Shepard had suddenly withdrawn into her tiny shell? The fact that she would have killed Sensat without remorse? Was it a combination of both?

He hadn't intended to ignore her for so long. He had thought about talking to her, at least within the week that she had left HQ since she had said she was leaving soon (another frustration: that she had chosen to leave so readily) but then he heard Legacy was still running about Omega and hadn't been worried.

Instead, he pinged for her to meet him at Eden Blue and he had brought—what he had completely forgotten to give her—the Christmas present. He had put a special amount of time thinking about what to give her that wasn't too obvious. His first gift had been all right but after the Indra he had to scrap it and think of something else.

He had rehearsed what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to ask—and when the woman in black armor came up to the front of the table, he looked up from his musings with his mouth open.

"You—You're not Legacy." He noted the blue skin, the lack of human hair. "What—"

"I am Legacy now." She answered with her mask on. "I have all responsibilities: her intranet address, her old armor, her watching over Archangel." She eyes sparkled and she leaned against the seat, smiling at him. The high note of her voice mocked him. "Didn't she tell you she was leaving?"

"No."

"Hah, she can be so cruel." The smile in her eyes didn't leave. "And so why did you call me here?"

"I thought someone else would come." He stood from his seat and dropped a few credits for Nalah to pick up. He snatched up the gift it had taken ages for him to wrap without tearing it with his talons by accident. "Excuse me."

"Hey," She put a hand on his shoulder. "If it's any consolation, Lorraine—Or was it Rachel? Aria has her new address too; maybe you can pry it out of her?"

He nodded at her, the gift crushed between his talons as he walked his way back to HQ. If he had thought about it, he had no right to be angry. He knew what Shepard was like: independent, unyielding, incomprehensible. What secrets he told her were the least of the pile. He had been tempted to spill them but Alenko face, his disappointed expression firmly planted there, kept coming to mind at the thought. Screw that then. Screw Shepard and her secrets too.

It was time to get back into the offensive against the damned mercs, anyway. Anything else was unnecessary.


	21. Chapter 18

_We now have beta! Elantil! Now, chapters will be of a better quality the first time around (not that I won't be doing my bi-monthly clean-ups). Expect a delay of two weeks as I work on the new arc. It's an in-between and an overlapping of ME2 called... I have no idea yet but I'll let you guys know when I know._

_Many thanks to Elantil, you are the best._

_Hope this chapter finds you well._

Chapter 18

Of all the species other than human, it was the krogan that Shepard had excelled at killing. It was no easy feat but Shepard had a salarian mentor, and it was common for salarians of Lor's caliber to know every weak point the krogans had. Lor had his share of run-ins with over eager krogans, who had held him responsible for all the mistakes of his species. He had quickly developed ways to fight them, a lot of them, sometimes, even on his own. Especially on his own.

Despite that, it was also the krogan that Lor admired the most out of all the species. They were prey in Tuchanka and yet outside of it, they became predators. It may have been wrong to test one's true mettle on a species that seemed so lost in their way, but Lor believed that any creature that managed to survive on Tuchanka for longer than necessary was either one lucky bastard or one hell of a fighter or both.

Shepard was on a standard-sized ship for civilians; less than half the size of an Alliance frigate. Her cover was that she was hired muscle along with a few mercs for volus tradesmen. Right then, she was on the receiving end of more than a several odd looks, either because they were fascinated by how she managed to move about silently while wearing swanky boots or because she was the only human in a sea of batarians and a handful of krogan. Though, it could also be because none of the others could figure out exactly who she worked with since she talked to no one in the half day that they've spent in the ship.

Tiring of all the blatant staring, she slung her things over her shoulder and made her way towards the cockpit. No one seemed to like the pilot much either. He was said to have too much attitude for a civilian pilot so far flung from the Citadel. Plus, he was human, so apparently that made things worse. He was good at it though, that much Shepard could tell from the way the ship cruised quietly despite its age and visible rust.

"Tired of the ass-leather smell of krogan hide?" He asked without turning back when she arrived with a soft knock. "It's going to be a long ride. Would appreciate it if your omni-tool has a spray function - I especially like lavender."

She walked up closer behind him, admiring the way his fingers glide over the buttons.  
"You're running this ship on your own?"

"No need for extra fuss when you've got the best flying this vessel. Plus," he swiveled around in his chair to face her. "It's half the size of an Alliance frigate, which would have been easily manageable by moi."

She kept her surprise at seeing him to a miniimal. Of course he wouldn't recognize her. He was drunk when they were first introduced in Flux during the bash she threw for the Commander. Not to mention, she was barely there during the funeral. Still, the sight of the bearded face and ever present cap reminded Shepard of sunnier days. "I see. I guess what they say about you is true."

He narrowed his eyes at that. "What are they saying? If those volus out there are talking about my brittle bone disease, you can tell them that at least I can shoot a gun without flying off the floor – despite my whole arm shattering."

She grinned at him. "They said it was run by a hotshot, former Alliance pilot with a big mouth."

He looked up at her in surprise. "Damn, now that I look at you – you look pretty damn fine for a merc. Have we met?"

"Tell me that wasn't a pickup line."

He grinned back. "Only if you want it to be." He shook her hand at that. "But seriously, I have this sneaking suspicion that I should know you from somewhere."

"One sentence: Flux, about a year ago, and free drinks."

His grip on her hand tightened. "Well, shit. Rachel? The Rachel that gave Wrex round after round of freaking ryncol till we all thought he might actually die from alcohol poisoning despite his multiple livers?"

"It's good to see you well, Moreau." She took a respectful step back. "I thought you'd stay with the Alliance after… that."

His shining eyes dimmed for a moment before flaring in rage. "Alliance grounded me. Couldn't take much more of that so I left. Got in touch with Wrex, weirdly enough, because I can't say we got along – he said he needed someone to send people back and forth from Tuchanka to the Terminus systems."

"You're a krogan's chauffeur now?"

"Not _a_ krogan, _the_ krogan. Only been a year and some of the clans are moving faster to get an alliance with Urdnot than they were to start making babies." Moreau's eyes glazed over. "And even if this ship isn't my Normandy, it's still a ship. Piss poor defense systems, though. Just enough to get quickly in and out – and that's only if Tuchanka doesn't chew us up."

Shepard crossed her arms, looking up at the open expanse of stars laid before them. "ETA?"

"About a day, Galactic Standard – slow as hell, I know. This ship wouldn't have passed the regs to fly anywhere, but you know what they say: whatever comes from Tuchanka, never stays in Tuchanka." Shepard shook her head at him and his grin grew wider. "Best to get used to the krogan smell too, there'll be more of that where we're going." He laughed a little to himself. "It's nice to see a familiar face around – or not so familiar, considering that I remember your face being blurry and blue."

She laughed. "Likewise, Moreau."

Shepard spent the next day near or in the cockpit. Moreau cracked strange jokes about her coming onto him, but she could see the relief on his face when she was around. They traded jokes about every volus that walked past the cockpit. They were a couple hours away from reaching Tuchanka and Moreau (he insisted on the name 'Joker', which she had decided to use only when she was speaking to him) had put the ship on auto-pilot.

"So," Moreau began. "What brings the infamous Rachel all the way to Tuchanka?"

"Infamous? If I'm infamous then I didn't do my job right." She spun on one of the empty co-pilot seats. Not that she could help him fly the thing, but she did occasionally press a button to keep Moreau on his toes. ("Hey, hey, hey! Do you want to throw the krogan out the – Never mind, I know you do.")

"You know what I mean."

Shepard stopped her spinning and looked at him. "Joker, I think you know more than anyone why the galaxy should be preparing for a threat instead of sitting around with their thumbs up their asses."

He sighed through his nose. "So, you know about the Reapers?"

"And I believe it. I'm doing the prep."

"And the rest of it?"

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in the couple of hours they spent talking about porn stars in Fornax. "We'll have to see. But when it happens, Joker, you'll be the first to know."

That had been the end of her luck. When she left to set-up and make a last stop at the washroom, all hell broke loose.

"Brace, ship under fire!" Moreau's voice snapped through the comm channels before he hit the thrusters and dived. "Keep your volus asses from rolling around back there!"

The ship was hit by bullets the moment they breached past Tuchanka's atmo. Moreau, skilled as he was, couldn't evade all the gunfire and missiles before one connected hard. The volus tradesmen held on for dear lives as they landed – crashed-almost a click away from the supposed landing zone.

"Joker! Patch in Urdnot and let him know the coordinates of our location!"

"Already on it, ma'am." He said automatically before he caught himself, feeling embarrassed. "And something tells me that wasn't the first Alliance order you've spat out."

She grinned at him. "Something tells me that was the first time you've called anyone with some respect."

"Hey! There were a few! Captain Anderson was a hard ass."

She sobered into seriousness. "Are they pirates?"

"No. Should be a rival clan, but they're probably after the stuff. I guess they don't like Urdnot being hot shit in Tuchanka at the moment."

She grabbed her Hornet SMG and her Carnifex sidearm and strapped them onto her holsters. Strapping on her sword and heading to the main floor, she hissed at the over eager mercs by the hatch. "Do not open that hatch, batarian, unless you want your head blown off by the krogan on the other side."

The hatch was fairly narrow, good enough for only one or two to leave at a time. When it was pried open, the krogan outside clearly wanted them to know they were from clan Turvak. ("For the pride of Turvak!")

So when one came in, charging and ready to steal and plunder, Shepard's sword was out and ready. Lor had pointed out, time and time again, that a krogan had to be taken down fast. The quickest way was to remove his brain – it may have multiple hearts, livers and nervous systems, but he only had one head.

Her sword, upgraded with better tech that could slice its way through armor, embedded itself into his left eye. She twisted it as he screamed before she slid the blade out from his head. She stuck a bomb on him before kicking his body backwards and out the door. The orange of his blood spilled all over her face and hair – she wiped away a bit of it from her face and gloves before turning back to the volus passengers. Behind her, the bomb went off and the krogan roared outside.

"I suggest you move back, things will get messy from here." She drew her sidearm with her other hand as she heard the battle cry outside. "There's only one door for them to enter."

"Unless they make a new one." A volus breathed, moving himself and his cargo as far away from the door as possible.

"Unlikely, they'd want the cargo in here safe. Blowing up a hole to make another entrance would jeopardize that." Her heels clicked as she moved away from the door again. "Joker, have the Urdnot responded?"

The comm crackled and spat before he said, "Not yet."

She closed her eyes. "Listen people, I'm going to have to ask you to follow me if you want most of us to survive. I know you don't want to take shit from some human but I want to make it to Urdnot whole and alive." There were only four krogan and two batarian mercs in the ship. They were clearly not eager to work under her but they all moved closer towards her, eyes wary as they listened to her plan.

Military precision was Shepard's answer to krogan brute force. The moment one or two entered, she had the mercs aim their shotguns at their skulls. They had made a makeshift barrier as cover for the front of the door at a range where any shotgun would feel like a hammer to the quad. As soon as they fired, Shepard finished them off with either her sidearm or sword or pushed them out with a sticky bomb attached to him that killed or severely injured whoever was behind him.

When two Makos drove in, flanking the rest of clan Turvak along with their backup, Wrex's head scout was expecting to meet a massacre of volus and Joker's dead body.

Instead, he found Legacy – covered in krogan blood, being thanked and praised by a bunch of mercs and volus. And Joker, looking a little weary but very much alive, faced him and said, "About time you showed up."

* * *

She had tried to settle into Tuchanka, but it was proving to be difficult. Even if she was allowed to sleep in the Urdnot camp upon arrival from the downed ship, Wrex still refused to see her.

"He's busy." The krogan guard at the head of the line of krogans from other clans and the volus tradesmen, grunted.

She crossed her arms. "Sitting his ass down on a throne of rubble?" The krogan looked ready to pull out his shotgun, but her hand was already dangerously close to her sword. "Tell him I'm only here for business, I can leave after he hears it."

"He's busy, human. Can't you see the queue? Everyone wants the Battlemaster's time and they're all here on business."

She took note of the long line and then moved up to glance at Wrex who looked bored beyond compare every time he tuned in to listen to volus. Instead, he eyed the clan in the distance warily and Legacy followed his gaze.

They were composed of mostly women with one or two children. Wrex was keeping an extra eye on them and the guards he had stationed near them. No wonder he was so twitchy. He had guests that took precedence over anyone here – the future of the krogan.

Legacy, or rather, Rachel, since she had yet to change her name, cursed in an old tongue. She'd have to be patient. "I don't do lines. Tell him Rachel is here and to come and see me."

Then, she knew she was in hell when the first night rolled in.

Moreau had offered the ship for her to stay in but she had shaken her head, no. She needed to get used to Tuchanka as she planned to stay here long enough. Moreau had called her crazy, Rachel had to agree.

"Just head back here when you change your mind. I'm not sure what the hell Wrex's problem is. Probably being a krogan and testing you. He always used to give the Commander a hard time." Something somber came over the pilot's face but it was dismissed when she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. She told herself that this gesture was necessary to shake away the memories – it wouldn't do to dwell on someone who was about to be resurrected, not that Moreau knew that.

"I don't doubt it." She slung her gear and her equipment over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Joker. You get some rest before you leave planetside. You've got a ship to re-patch."

"Aye, ma'am. Good night and don't let the klixen bite."

With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, she made her way to the border of the camp. Even the predators of Tuchanka seemed less fearsome than the krogan in the camp. Wrex may have allowed her to stay but he had other clans staying over as well and they didn't like the sight of her.

She had done her research; the surrounding fauna comprised mostly of pyjaks and wild varren that may attack her from outside the border, but there was vegetation that she could touch and she could kill and roast the pyjaks. She had no intention of sleeping until the day cycle hit, if she would even slept at all. Instead, she took a meditative position and sat in silence. There was no use wasting energy and even without the nuclear winter, it was freezing on Tuchanka. She readied a fire by activating a mod from her omni-tool and the wood that she had gathered from some of the odd purple trees nearby.

Now, she could think about how she hadn't told anyone in Archangel that she was leaving. Then again, it's not like they would have wanted to know that she had gone; not after what she did. It was a real shame too; she really could have used some of that Vakarian humor. If there was anything that she was going to miss, it was that.

Still, she sighed, what Sensat had insinuated – without even asking about the scars. Rachel reached for her hands, peeling off the gloves to look at the marred skin there. The flushed red skin meant her heart rate had sped up. Regardless of what they looked from the outside, few knew what they meant to her.

"Each hand represents a lesson," Shepard had told him. Looking into his grey eyes as he studied her, Azril – she thought of him every once in awhile as her comrade and for a longer while, as her lover. He looked sad but understanding, just the way she remembered. "Do they disgust you?"

"What lessons?" He asked, taking her left hand. "Who taught them to you?"

"The left means–"

Krogan were not known for their subtlety. She wasn't entirely sure why they tried. She opened her eyes to the present, sidearm at hand as she aimed–

Only to find a boy, a krogan child, whose eyes were impossibly large and who probably weighed twice as much as she did. He was probably younger than twenty but was rather weak and puny for his age and species. He had a stick in his hand and he looked ready to knock her out with it, only he got caught before he could do it. He turned embarrassed and hid it behind his back instead of brandishing it over his head.

Shit. How did the clans not see one of their own escaping the camp? So much for the extra security they were laying out for their future.

"Boy," she called out and he stiffened. She tapped her omni-tool so that her translator would be put on speaker for both of them. She doubted he was old enough to have an omni-tool of his own or that if the clan could even afford one at this time. "Get back into the camp. Your clan will miss you."

"Red-asari," the boy called her and she had every right to be insulted. How could he not know what humans were? "Why are you here? _Madra,_ mama, said that even volus-thieves get to sleep in the camp, so why not red-asari? Are you… dangerous?"

She nearly hissed at him, thinking of some way to scare him off so he could go back to the safety of his clan. However, his intention to stay was clear when he sat down, his plump krogan legs making the task a little difficult. His hide was a pale red shade and still looked soft. Rachel was wary; she extended her senses all around them for anything that might sneak up on them in the dark. She was all too aware that the boy was prey in his own home and she'd be damned if he died near her. She would be killed three times more brutally and twice as slowly by the krogan if they found out.

"Very dangerous, boy. But not as dangerous as the borders of this camp." She motioned her head towards the expanse of sand and darkness. "Hasn't your _Madra_ told you it isn't safe here? Get back inside."

As all children do, he didn't seem to hear her. "What is red-asari's name? I am Greior. I want to be part of Urdnot one day – like my father, my _Dragur_."

She looked up, summoning her patience. "I am nameless. And I am not an asari. I'm human. Didn't your _Madra_ teach you these things?"

He looked thoroughly confused. "_Madra_ only said our _Sodragur_, our forefathers, hated the asari. For the way they used them and for that they've done to us. How they helped the salarians and the turians. She didn't talk about hu- huamans."

Rachel sighed. The League and the krogan now turned out to be equal parts belligerent.

Not bothering to reply to that, Rachel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The dust had mostly settled and the cold night wind had ceased. Though, she would have to let the fire die slowly – keeping it up the entire night would invite nocturnal predators. She would be able to keep warm if she concentrated on that.

However, the young Greior sidled up closer to her instead of leaving for camp. She moved her weapons to the right side so it would be hard to him to reach for those without her noticing.

"Your _Madra_ will look for you," she said quietly causing him to jump at the sound of her voice. Her body was absolutely still and the night beyond them was daunting. "If she finds you here, she may kill me. Or try to."

He growled. "My _Madra_ is young but she is strong. Stronger than some red-asa– hu-man."

"Then do you want to get me killed, boy?"

"What I want is to be free. I want to be part of my _Dragur's_ clan. But _Madra _won't let me because I-" He motioned at his small arms and legs, the soft portions of his hide that should have, by now, become rough and strong.

Legacy said nothing in reply, only looked at the fire – stared at it long and hard until Greior fell asleep beside her, innocent and unaware of the predators all around him.

When his mother came by, looking panicked and twitchy, she looked ready to attack Legacy, but all Legacy did was stare back. In turn, she merely fixed a glare at Legacy as she woke her child up and dragged him back to camp, her eyes never leaving Legacy as they left.

* * *

Things had changed in Archangel since Rachel—Shepard—Legacy left. Things had also changed in Omega.

The new Legacy was noticeably different in her MO and less fearsome as a result. There were rumors going around that the old one had died and Aria had found herself a quick replacement to fill the void. Where the old Legacy had been silently effective, this one was loud and noticeable. Garrus didn't like the way Shepard's professional reputation was being dragged through the mud and he approached Aria about it.

"It's on purpose." She replied easily. "We need to confuse people about her identity. I had told the new agent to be as different as possible: they'll likely think the old one's dead."

"You got rid of her pretty fast for someone who was mad about her going missing."

"So did you."

He almost flinched at that. Almost.

"Did our favorite human do something to piss you off? Say, did she hit someone precious to you? Kill someone you loved?" She laughed at his stunned face - a reaction he couldn't control. Her grin was so wide and her teeth, so white. "You fell for it, so easily. And she slipped right through your fingers like water."

His stance stiffened and he found himself having to put his hands behind his back to keep himself from climbing the steps and strangling Aria. He'd probably get a bullet through the brain and that is only if Aria didn't kill him with her biotics first. "What do you mean?"

"Archangel, you got right under her skin. Hit her right in her human heart, tiny as it is." She leaned forward. "But what do you really know about her? If there's anything I know about the girl, is that she'll cut off anything that keeps her from the mission. If your little cheering squad or yourself had given her purpose, had given her any reason to pause from that mission, she probably would have readily killed any of you. And if she knows you as well as I do, you'd be reluctant to let her go. Not unless you saw it with your own eyes: a reason to distrust her, to hate her."

He left Afterlife boiling with fury at the insinuation that Legacy—Rachel—Shepard had planned so extensively to leave. Would she? Could she? He reviewed everything he knew about her. The past that she had shared with him, the decisions she made while she was present. She was intelligent enough, devious enough. When it came down to it he knew she didn't need his friendship nor his loyalty.

His father's voice, one that had been absent for the longest time, came back—berating him for trusting so easily, for letting a shadow take form, allowing it to haunt him. He wanted to be honest with himself. He hadn't met anyone whom he had looked up to, whom he had laughed with since Alenko's death—not as much as he did with her. But that honest reflection was snuffed out by the snarl of his anger. Never mind what he knew, she had manipulated him instead of telling the truth. She had escaped him and he had fallen for it easily.

Unless Aria was wrong. She had seen only the worse in Rachel—Shepard. With that thought, Garrus made his way to the Gozu district to meet a certain doctor.

"Can't possibly deduce all of her reasons. She can be mean. Can be selfish. All people are." Mordin paced around his office before motioning for Garrus to take a seat. "Only more creative about it. Makes her interesting."

"But do you think she set it all up? Got close to Sensat and waited till I went down there?"

"Not beyond her capabilities." He blinked many times before he put his hands behind his back. "Aware she told you a bit about Lor?"

Garrus face plates twitched at the memory. That time... Had it been that long ago? "Yeah."

"Likes to downplay her abilities. Lor made an exception for her when he promised he would be the last of the League and changed the name to Legion. Reason being Rachel possessed extraordinary talent and capabilities. Huge potential with close quarters, subterfuge, tech, among others. The reason is here," The salarian tapped the side of his head. "Rachel possesses genius-level intellect, managed to learn all Lor had to offer in the same time as a salarian. Nothing left that Lor could teach her by the time he left."

"I always knew she was smart. What's new, doctor?"

Mordin shook his head. "She can predict the way you move before it happens. Aided by League know-how, of course. But it wouldn't work as well with humans—shouldn't work as well—but Rachel is not just smart."

"But when she doesn't see something coming—when she makes a mistake—disaster. Withdrawal from others. Warnings in dreams. Stress levels rise. System tells her to flee rather than fight."

Garrus stood up then. "Are you saying she's not good at predicting hugs? That just sounds—"

Mordin stiffened. "Is that what happened?"

Garrus would have found this whole situation either a big lie or just really funny, but Mordin looked shaken and disappointed and scared all at the same time. It was rare for the salarian to display any emotion but haughtiness and self-confidence. "That and my team's asari—Sensat—pointed out the scars on her hands—"

Mordin closed his eyes and began shaking his head. "Then there is no help for it."

"Sensat said that the scars looked self-inflicted."

"Rachel would _never _hurt herself on purpose." Mordin's tone was enough to remove that insinuation from his mind even if the doubt kept crawling back before then. "No, those scars aren't self-inflicted. But they're worse. Much worse for humans." He sighed. "Can't tell you this. Have to hear it from her."

And then Shepard was back to being a big mystery again. Everything he knew about her seemed useless in trying to understand her—whoever she really was. What could he do?

He put the thoughts of her behind him. He needed to focus on the now. He called Sidonis and set themselves up to work. Together, Garrus and Sidonis explored the tunnels that Shepard mentioned. She had left a map guide in a datapad on her bed, one of the few traces she left behind.

Garrus had half a mind to toss it into the trash. Sidonis, not one to squander an advantage given to him, convinced him against it.

"To think something like this existed inside Omega." Sidonis said aloud, mostly to himself, Garrus assumed.

"Hmm." He looked about, then looked up at the opening indicated by the map.

"Damn shame she left before she could teach us more of this. I could probably figure them all out but it would take one hell of a long time."

"We could use some of these walkways." Garrus consulted his map when he heard his omni-tool ping. He opened up his mail. A message from Solana. He told himself not to feel disappointed. Then he berated himself for feeling disappointed.

_Come home. Now._

Garrus had received numerous messages from her and his father asking where he was and what he was doing. But something about this last one set him on edge.

Sidonis walked up closer to him. "Something wrong?"

"It's nothing." Garrus quickly closed his omni-tool. "Let's look around some more and head back."


	22. Chapter 19

_Expect updates every two weeks for a while though. No worries. I hope my track record says I can deliver._

_Also, do leave me reviews. Love those. It would be motivating to get your comments on what's happening._

_Thanks to Elantil for being awesome. _

_Hope this chapter finds you all well._

**Warning: Explicit torture.**

Chapter 19

It was on the fourth day that she saw Greior again. Only this time he hid behind one of the scouts. Legacy looked up slowly, one hand on her sword and the other on her pistol.

"The battlemaster wants to see you."

She said nothing in reply, only re-sheathed her weapons and followed sedately. Greior walked behind them at a distance, merely watched and saying nothing until she was in front of the familiar krogan.

"I heard one of the children visited you."

She looked beyond his throne and at the ceiling behind him, staring at the holes that let in the barest of sunlight. Behind her was no line. In fact, she noticed that there were barely any guards standing around. It turns out, much to Legacy's surprise, that Urdnot Wrex knew some semblance of discretion and knew when to apply it.

"Rachel." He grunted.

"Urdnot." She paused. "It's Tara Legacy now. Officially."

"You mean from right this moment?"

It wasn't entirely wise to keep the name that she was supposed to leave back in Omega, but providing the world with more confusion would hurt everyone, which wasn't exactly her agenda. "Of course."

He grunted. "I suppose you understand how important a child is to us, Legacy."

Legacy finally looked directly at him. "I understand."

"If he was hurt under your watch—"

"You would have had me killed." She nodded, moving her hand to the sheathed sword strapped to her hip. "But, I have to tell you, Urdnot. I've got a lot to live for."

A moment's pause and Legacy saw the myriad of emotions crossing his face but the one that dominated them all made his face crinkle and a bark of a laugh escaped his throat.

"What is it that you want?" Wrex finally asked.

Legacy got to business immediately.

This was the deal: secure trade routes so his people could get the supplies they needed from off-planet and Urdnot would take into consideration that other than the genophage, the lack of solidarity, and the pyjaks, they would also consider the Reapers and Collectors as a threat to them and their own.

"I realize it's a tall order, but you have to at least be somewhat prepared for what's to come."

"I get you, Legacy." Wrex grunted as he sat in his throne of stone and rubble. "But this time my people have to come first. You saw for yourself, how important a single child is. If you plan to use us as fodder as we were during the Rachni wars... We just don't have the same numbers as we did then."

"There's no way I would think of the krogan as fodder. Front lines, last resorts, maybe. But never as just fodder."

"That's you. But the Admiral up front will still wish we'd have died with the resistance." He stood from his throne, a grin still on his face. "This is just proof that deep inside all that black you're actually a good person. The fact that you're doing any of this at all—hah, if you were a krogan you'd have followers in droves."

"Taking care of people is a difficult thing."

"You've managed to save the brittle human, Joker. I think you can take care of yourself as well as anyone." He paused. "And you watched over one of the more ambitious children."

"The boy is eager to prove himself."

"He'll have his time." Wrex grunted. "For now, he remains a child. He should allow his mother to dote on him. In a few years, she'll be alone again. Who knows if she can give birth to a second clutch. Who knows if a single child survives this time."

"He'll eventually have to learn how to take care of himself."

"Hah, he could learn a little from you then."

"That I know how to take care of myself?" Legacy rolled her eyes. "Tell that to the asari I know."

"Tsk, asari and their mind reading. The only one I ever liked was T'soni and that took a while." He stood up from his throne and approached her. "They look at you and see vulnerability?"

"They think I need help. Counseling."

"Counseling? The krogan people need that more than you!" He pointed at her, jovially jabbing her in the shoulder. She kept her face carefully blank through the pain. Damn if it didn't feel more like a punch. "No, Legacy, you're not weak. You just have weaknesses. And those," This time. he punched her on the shoulder. Lightly. If that was even possible. "Make you accessible to people."

"Part of my charm?" She grinned at him. "Wrex, don't tell me you're coming onto me?"

"Hmph, I don't sleep with soft, squishy things that remind me of pyjaks, Legacy." He shook his head. "A warrior who thinks himself invulnerable is a dead soldier. You. You know what you can and can't do. I see you eat, rest, meditate—I can't sit that long and not think something is about to kill me."

She smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Urdnot."

"There's nothing wrong with living through some regrets. The worry of other people is more troublesome." He grumbled, hands opening and closing. "And I also hate talking about stupid squishy, pyjak feelings—you better be glad that you bought me all that ryncol otherwise I would have clobbered you off Tuchanka."

"Oh. There is something else I need to ask from you." Shepard put her hands behind her back. He rolled his shoulders before he sat back down, motioning with his hand for her to continue. "I need you to help me train against biotics."

Wrex's laugh echoed throughout the camp.

* * *

Things in Tuchanka were nothing like Shepard had expected.

Daily living was strenuous to the body what with the dry weather and constant dust and jagged terrain. Worse than the dry weather were the sandstorms and thunderstorms, and for that matter, just about anything but the nuclear winter that the salarians had gotten rid of for them.

The lack of water was one thing, but the lack of cleanliness, now _that_ she had to get used to. There was tech that Tuchanka hadn't installed and they had a sewage system that clogged up easily. They had a simple process for it ("Don't hold it with your bare hands and don't throw it onto the walls—it attracts klixen.") but it was primitive at best.

Meanwhile, food was constantly being stolen by pyjaks. Though for that problem, she had devised traps - nets that quickly caught them up in bunches. One pyjak she had hung up, dead, near the area they frequented as a grisly example. That had worked to attract wild varren that kept coming by to try to take it which in turn kept the damn pyjaks away. The influx of wild varren also got the krogan hunting, especially the scouts, who were grateful for the game that they could eat while out of camp.

For a week Greior's presence was a constant until he left with his mother's clan, and until the very end his mother looked at her and watched her, but said nothing.

Otherwise, the krogan let her be. They watched her train sometimes, which was the nice way of saying "getting biotically beaten up by Wrex." Most hid their disgusted faces at her presence when Wrex came by to ask how she was doing or to begin training. Others were grudgingly grateful for her part in securing them cargo and supplies, and for doing half of the work of making sure the pyjaks think twice before coming back.

Initially, Wrex had enjoyed the fun they had in their training regime, but a month later and Shepard had gotten better at evading a well-aimed Warp or a Stasis-headbutt combo that made her head spin. Her favorite gloves had been torn up to shreds from the number of times she'd skidded across the rocks or flipped backwards using her hands. By the second month, she could see his attacks, predict them by looking at the movement of muscles from shoulder to fingers.

She had never told Garr— Vakarian, that her ability to dodge was due to her ability to predict. And her ability to predict was owed to a lot of hard work- straining eyes, muscles, the memory of her body and the body of her opponent.

Lor, the Legion, had stressed that biology was important not only because it taught her all the vulnerable places on a body but also that it taught her the rippling motions of a set of muscles right before a strike.

There was an economy of movement made when a man was reaching for his gun—the coiling of the muscles of his arm and the twist of his wrist. All these movements varied depending on the species and on the build. What Shepard was doing now was getting used to the movements of a biotic, a type of opponent she admitted to having rarely encountered in her jobs head-on (at least, not as a foe—save for Nyreen and Liselle and that involved just a lot of running) and trying to adapt the principles to humans or asaris that she might encounter in the future.

Being able to predict the opponent's next move, as Lor had said, was what made up 80% of a fighter's ability to evade it.

She didn't want a repeat of what happened with Sensat. To be caught so off guard that she had been trapped in the asari's embrace; the suffocation and helplessness that she felt. She wouldn't have felt so invaded had the closeness been invited. She didn't feel that way when Liara had drawn close to her or when Nyreen had pulled her near. She had felt sick, judged, in that hold. It would not, could not, happen again.

The next step of training was what Wrex had been hesitant to do.

"Legacy, I like bringing pain to my enemies as much as the next person. And our rounds of mutual violence has been fun for me and the men," He motioned at the krogan who watched them. She guessed that they were eager to learn by observing their Battlemaster fighting an agile outsider. "But what you're proposing is—"

"It's a part of how I learn." She cut him off. "We can move someplace else if you don't want your men to see."

Pain flashed across Wrex's face briefly, a rare thing. One that his men did not miss as they began to whisper to one another. "This will be more painful for you than it is for me." He paused. "I want my men to learn that there is a difference between violence and cruelty."

"Don't worry, I won't ask you to do this again."

"You better not. You have too much quad than what's good for you, Legacy."

She smiled for a moment before making her face neutral and closing her eyes. She stood stock still, braced in a fighting stance to signal she was ready for him.

Waiting for him to begin, she recited the creed in her mind as he summoned his biotics and used Throw. She let out a gasp, expelling the energy she used to remain in place and kept her feet planted firm and her knees bent.

"Pain is an important learning tool. It teaches us what is dangerous. Signals to us how much we can take before we crumble. Every time we are hurt, our threshold for pain should increase, but our ability to feel pain shouldn't be lost."

Lor had taught her true pain. He had explained to her, over and over, that it was not something that he had wanted to do. That it was not something to revel in.

When she was 15, pain, was the last of the lessons Lor had taught her. A lesson that lasted for days, months, years— almost unending, always repeating.

When she was 15, it was the first time she heard Lor cry as he held the blades and pierced them through her hands.

"The right means pain."

He recited every time as the dagger pierced through flesh, precisely where it would heal in time, leaving no lasting damage. The blade found its sheath in her hands, as he twisted them till she writhed and her eyes rolled, her mouth open as she screamed.

The places he pierced would eventually be the scars she used as reminders, but back then, before she learnt that valuable lesson; where flesh broke and bled, she cried and begged for it to end.

"You will know this pain. You will also know that anyone who comes close to you will be capable of it. That you are equally capable of inflicting this pain to yourself and to others."

"This is the pain of trust and of betrayal. The pain of battle. Of the mistakes you make. Learn this pain. Every person you let near is capable of inflicting it."

She remembered their proximity— the sound of his beating heart and her own. She remembered their breaths, the slow blinking of his eyes as he fought to stay focused. She remembered the fire she felt in her hands as the blades remained, twisted, and turned. "Learn from pain. Learn that we of the Legion, grant quick deaths because we know pain."

This was the way to learn: conviction, repetition.

As was the way to learn from pain; the same she applied to every new lesson.

Conviction, repetition.

She wore the gloves for Lor because every time she caught him looking at her hands, at the scars there, he looked like he would cry. She knew that they would remain even if she tried to remove them. She knew this lesson well; she didn't need to relive the lessons in her dreams. But there were days—like with Harga, like with Sensat—the way they held—

"If the right means pain then what does the left mean?" Azril had asked.

Shepard's lips parted to say—

What _did_ the left mean?

Legacy counted 18 full-powered Throws from the Battlemaster, no less, before she knew the next ones would be painful and that she wouldn't be able to hold back. By the 20th, she turned her screams into roars as the biotics split skin and muscle. The krogans around the ring flinched back at the sound of it. Wrex took a beat of rest before the look in her green eyes told him that they were not finished, and he roared back with another Throw.

By the 23rd, her roars were raw and breathless. Her knees had buckled and the armor of her arms and chest were worn and crumpled. Every blow in those exposed spots pushed her organs back with such physical force that blood trailed out of her mouth and nose. The once jeering crowd was now hushed to unsettled silence as they watched their leader continue his relentless assault without batting a single eyelash, without pause, and without mercy.

Conviction, repetition.

On the 25th, hacking blood, she knew every organ and bone in her body had probably taken more damage than what was considered possible. Now, however, she would know this pain. What biotics could do to her if she wasn't careful. She learned that she would evade every time she could, because getting hit would mean the end.

Now, her eyes were open but she was neither awake nor asleep as she sat there, her legs having given way awhile back, and waited for the next blow to come.

Conviction, repetition.

What _did_ the left mean?

Conviction, repetition.

Wrex stopped then, he looked at Legacy's form – bloody but undefeated. He sighed at the crowd that remained and the crowd that had come to watch. Even though krogan were used to violence, they could never really look into the eyes of one who had clearly lost but still remained defiant.

"Get her a doctor." He muttered, and his people scrambled to get one. "And get the pyjack Joker on the comm, ASAP!"


	23. Chapter 20

And things change.

You guys have become oddly silent. There are so many of you. Review, please! It's really sad how the ratio of reader to review is so low :( Think about it, I'm living off your love. Show me some of it. Many hearts to reviewers though, and Elantil for beta-ing.

Updates will come within two weeks, this will be a sure thing now. I've become very busy. But, just don't expect it to be over that- if it does go over then something went very wrong and maybe you should be worried. If I can post it earlier (say, within a week) then it will be early- just don't expect it.

Nonetheless, hope this chapter finds you well.

Chapter 20

For the next month, Legacy stuck to healing and meditation. She took to learning more about Tuchanka and the Krogan beyond just the boundaries of her job and Wrex was all too happy to grant her admission. After the event, the Urdnot clan was split between being in awe of her or feeling threatened by her. No one really spoke to her still, but she could at least rest easy from the thought that she might be killed in the middle of night for sport.

What surprised her, most of all, was what she was learning from the people and their culture. She especially enjoyed the nightly gatherings around the large fire, where the Shaman would share a story about their ancestors. Everything was ordered chronologically so that each night would be dedicated to the exploits of a specific shaman or a Battlemaster or even just an allegory of Maws and Varren. She loved the poetry and the descriptions of the old krogan with their City of Stone - ruins of the ones before. Lor would have enjoyed it too; he had enjoyed literature and had bought a few human hardbound copies (hard to come by and expensive) for himself when he was on Earth ("Just as good as spending on a blade.").

At first she had taken to listening from afar, away from the fire. But when the scouts noticed that she would be there come evening, they had—shyly or brashly, depending on how you look at it— invited her to sit at the circle. She had balked at first, not really wanting to invade, but Wrex had cut in and said that if his scouts said they had room for her then she should sit.

She marveled at how close the krogan culture was to the League of One that Lor had told her about. They held their Fathers, their _Abrul_, in the highest esteem—even if finding men in salarian society was like finding grass in a garden. And then they respected the _Abrue_, their Elder Brothers, to lead the charge. She wondered if Lor too had admired the krogan for being so similar to the League, and if he had envied them their bonds when he himself had lost all his Fathers and Brothers to the Union and to the Spectres who followed them.

"Tonight is a special night. Tonight, we gather stories to add to our Battlesong, before the other clans arrive tomorrow."

Shepard looked to her side at a krogan scout, Urdnot Frud, and tilted her head. She had liked the man enough, and he was probably the closest to gentle that she could describe a krogan ever being (this was before she saw him crush rocks with his head, so even he was barely an exception now). "Battle Song?"

"Battlesong, Tara. A chance for us grunts to shine. We narrate something tremendous we did in war or battle and the Battlemaster and shaman decide what gets to be kept in the archives. Comes by only once a year. Some years though, nothing gets added."

"Have you had a story added to the Battle Song?"

"Hah, in a clan where _the_ Urdnot Wrex is? He could write his own anthem with his achievements alone. Since he's become head, nothing has impressed him so far—so now the men just talk about petting Varren and mocking him. Of course, when the shaman tell us to keep our yaps shut, we obey." He nodded to himself and motioned at one of the Vanguards who stood in the middle, narrating a tale. "Few clans barely keep this part of the Gathering tradition. I only know that clan Weyrloc do, but then again, their shaman's father was born in Urdnot."

She nodded and turned back to the Vanguard who had finished his tale. The clan let out a series of roars accompanied by the steady beats from drums covered with the hides of dead Thresher Maws before the next one stood and said his story.

About five more krogan stood up before no one else did, there was a hush and a series of drum beats before Urdnot Wrex raised his hand to call for everyone's attention. "We've heard a lot of damn fine stories. Many of them make me proud. Urdnot isn't the best for no reason!" There was a long roar, pulsated by the thudding of their feet as they stomped in unison. "But there is a story I want to hear before we decide on what gets added to the Battle Song tonight."

"Legacy, I think you owe Urdnot a story or two."

"Me? But I'm not- "

"You're more krogan than Jurad over there." Wrex pointed at a krogan on the far end of the circle. "And he eats raw varren."

"I'll take that with pride," the krogan with the dark violet and scarlet coloring, grunted. "No one takes over 20 throws from a Battlemaster and lives unless he's got multiple organs."

"Yeah, so get your ass of your seat, Legacy, and tell us a story already." He signaled the scouts to haul her from her seat and two of them pulled her up and unceremoniously threw her to the middle. Luckily, she landed gracefully despite the near tumble which would have triggered a chain reaction from sustained injuries. A hundred pairs of eyes looked at her eagerly, the burning fire behind her reflected in their gaze.

"Fuck, Wrex, I don't have the eloquence for this. Or for a story."

"Varren shit, you've got more eloquence than some barefaced turian and that's saying something." The krogan roared in agreement. "And this pyjak shit about you not having a story? Don't insult my intelligence. You're nothing but bones and scars. And each and every one of them has a story. Now tell us one or I'll sic the varren on you."

She sighed. There was very little she could tell them, with the secrets that she had to keep, that would impress Wrex—who, judging by the way he was fidgeting in his seat, was indeed waiting to be impressed. If she did fail, he would be embarrassed in front of his clan for sure. But there was one tale she could tell without giving much away— if only to Wrex, who would be the only one to get the significance of the place.

"It was at Akuze, in the middle of a sandstorm. A team of ten marched boldly through it." She wasn't unfamiliar with narrative. Lor had loved them and she had memorized a few on her own to impress him. Though he shook his head and indulged in her stumbles and mispronunciations, his eyes had shone bright as he stared at her form.

Of course the Urdnot were familiar with thresher maws. It had been said that Tuchanka had been their place of origin and the mother of all maws resided here (or so said the shaman, nights ago). Urdnot's rite of passage included surviving an attack from a thresher maw. And Wrex had been the only one in a long time to kill one.

"I alone was left standing, my team, my brothers, had fallen. Their blood on my face and hands. I didn't want to die, it was a selfish thought but I knew it to be true. I took what they had left me - clips, guns, bombs. I took them and I ran. The second maw, who was barely injured, gave chase. I used all I had. All the knowhow, all the skills taught to me by my own... my own father who trained me to be what I am."

"As you krogan say, _'There is no counsel better than the shaman's and no lesson greater than a father's._' I took down the maw, single handedly. Used its own motherland against it. We tore down hills and valleys and old stone walls in a single night together. I set the traps my father had taught me to do. I still have the scar from the acid that melted through my shields," She motioned her hand at a point above her right shoulder. "By dawn, in Akuze, it had died by one of the last 10 bullets I had left in my sniper rifle, loaded with modded bullets that would burst into flames on impact. I hit it in the eye, and it burned, burned as it fell and I stood alive; heavily bleeding but alive. The shuttle came two hours later when I could have been dead."

The deadly silence that greeted her at first made her worry that she may have gone too far and made it unbelievable when she had only been telling the truth, but then she caught Wrex's eye. In them, she saw a fire that burned hotter and brighter than the one behind her.

The victory roar that resounded in clan Urdnot could be heard from the Makos that were making their way to the clan to gather before dawn. And though it was faint amongst a clan of krogan, Shepard's voice was added to that roar.

"You haven't been yourself. Not since—"

The look Garrus gave Melanis was so sharp that she instantly snapped her mandibles shut. "Don't say it."

He hadn't been thinking about Legacy - Shepard - at all actually, not really. He had been thinking about his mother and how Solana had sent him that one liner and no more. It was unusual for her not to nag and that proved just how severe things might be there now.

Every day he had to remind himself of Commander Alenko. And every day, he hit Omega harder and harder. He remembered his time in C-Sec, remembered the red tape that he had been tied in, bound by. He couldn't leave it behind, it would be like abandoning Alenko all over again. He had to bring Omega to justice, purge it.

It was becoming difficult to hold on, however. If he could measure how much the Commander's guidance meant to him and how much his own family, his own mother, meant to him as well... He had yet to really examine where the scale tilted but the wrenching feeling in his gut was not a good sign nor did it provide a moment's clarity.

He was in the dorm while the others were downstairs. Sidonis had gone out to scout. Garrus had been chatting with Tali when Wrex had sent an uncharacteristic message, sounding strangely smug about something because all the message said was: "I know something you don't." Garrus replied with something rude and ignored whatever the krogan had to say afterwards.

It would be nearly two years since Alenko had died. He was planning something big since his last attempt at Blue Sun's boss. That had been damn close but the mercs had luck in getting away. Still, he had been persistently nailing them - disrupting shipments, destroying equipment. If this went on, they'd lose not only credibility in Omega but in the entire galaxy as mercs. They had lost a lot of money already.

Then Melanis decided to walk in and sit across him.

"Sensat hasn't been the same either. She won't tell me what happened."

"Because it's a private thing. Melanis. Did you ever stop to think that it might be none of your business?" He didn't glance up from his omni-tool until the last word.

Melanis didn't flinch. "Then why were you there?"

"That," he paused. "Is also none of your business." He sighed through his nose. "Look, it's been a long time since then. We don't have to think about it. It's done."

"You? Not think about the past? Hah, varren shit." He glared at her but she continued. "So, if it isn't Lega— her. Then what? Your family? Are they okay?"

"They're fine." He lied. "Mel, this isn't the time—"

Another message pinged in.

He checked it with a flurry of fingers, his senses tingling with renewed worry when he saw that it was from his sister again, this time more elaborate and more eloquently typed.

_It's not just mom anymore. Dad needs you here too. Come home. Now._

She knew it had officially begun when Kandros gave Legacy a call. She was only a month into healing from the sustained injuries, of which, some were still rather bad - bad enough that she would have to lay off the acrobatics for a while. Her right arm was still in a sling but Kandros didn't need to know that and she kept only her face visible.

When Barns had called her with a 68.4% accurate calculation of their slaver's route, Kandros had gotten back to her with dossiers. There were some old names there and some new ones. One of them, Legacy rose her eyebrows at.

"Amadeus? Really?"

Kandros eyes shifted from the vidcomm. "The two of you get along."

"But the both of you don't." Legacy leaned back against the crumbling wall of her room.

"I want to take the doctor with us too."

"No," Legacy shook her head. "He has his own reasons to be in Omega. We can't move him from there. The three of us make a sufficient team. We will decide on more members during our initial investigation."

Kandros looked reluctant but she nodded anyway. "Where are we going?"

Shepard took a breath before replying, "The beginning of the end: Alchera."


	24. Chapter 21

_Hello readers, a little late but we've been busy. I'm hoping to post the next chapter early but that also depends on feedback (in other words, review please)._

_Thanks to Elantil for being awesome and thanks to all those who reviewed. _

_References to ME2 dialogue. Some verbatim, others rewritten to fit the circumstances._

_Hope this chapter finds you well._

Chapter 21

Legacy sat with her back hunched over. Her leant her elbows against her thighs. Her fingers twirled a bit of the tech that had chipped off the geth platform they brought back with them.

How much time had passed since she left Tuchanka? Only a week and already she felt like it had been years. She missed the people, the rancid smell of krogan hide, her concrete bed.

Kandros walked over to her side from the medbay and sat down.

Legacy said nothing, only leaned her back against the wall. She could imagine the ship's circuitry as she looked up at the white lights- she imagined the way the wires swivelled and ducked, making the _Temperament_ the ship she was. She was a black market special that Legacy had eyes on ever since she left Omega. Kandros had put bids up in Legacy's stead. It wasn't as large as the Normandy, not by a longshot, but it had a drive core that reverberated throughout the ship and speeds that turned walking into leaping. Drive core- Titus it was informally called- also had some special settings that were similar to the Normandy. There had been some rumor that it's designed had been copied off the ship but the point was the_ Temperamen_t was a ship not everyone could afford and not everyone could drive.

"Glad I forced my way into this job, ma'am." Joker said as he tried out all the new buttons as he sat un the cushy leather pilot seat earlier that week. "She isn't my old girl, but she's a damn fine ride all the same."

"Huh, says the pilot who was all but kicking and screaming even before we hit Alchera atmo."

"Hey, as long as I'm onboard the right ship, I'm easily persuaded. Besides, kicking breaks too many bones."

That was then though, and this was now. Her fingers tingled as she stroked the black chip. "Progress, Kandros?"

"Fine. Amadeus is working on it." Kandros leaned back against the wall, subharmonics hinting at weariness. "You would have been the better assistant had you told us about your sustained injuries. We could have delayed this mission till you were fully healed."

"No time," Legacy crossed her legs.

"You could have died during that ambush." Kandros stood up and paced in front of her, the ship hummed a dull after-echo. "Geth crawling left and right—they only wanted that one unit. They could have had him and we could have just slipped on by—why the hell did you save it?"

Legacy looked at Kandros then at the black chip from the Geth platform's suit, right at that moment, Amadeus was busting his brain trying to repair it. Her help would have made his task simpler but even the subtle movement of her fingers roving over something so dainty and minute was already shooting pain up her arm. Moreover, the leg she used to favor now ached at even the subtlest shifts of her sitting position.

When they were down there she had felt the cold of Alchera seep through her armor and freeze her blood. That was enough forewarning to let them know that they might not find much down there except battle and the carcass of the Normandy.

"He didn't seem like the rest of them. Running away from his own kind. Since when does a mass-conscious AI fight itself?"

"Doesn't matter. It's geth. You weren't fit for firefights today. If Amadeus and I weren't fast enough—"

"Kandros, since when did you not care for the lives of every individual—"

"I care the most for the life of my friend." Kandros stopped her pacing, towering over Legacy with her teeth bared and her tone low. "And I don't want to run any mission that shows me that she's pushing herself too hard, that she's burning out too fast." The female turian's hand glowed blue and then flickered out. "You aren't fit for this. Not yet."

In the back of her mind Legacy was angry, angry enough to start a fight. Instead she ground her heels against her rage and inhaled deeply. "I don't have any commanding officers. Least of all you, Kandros."

As the turian was about to argue back, the doors of the medbay slid open and a drell with onyx and blue skin came out with a sigh. Legacy stood up as he motioned with his hand for them to follow him through to the medbay.

"Something the matter, Mad?"

The drell looked back at Legacy, the left side of his lips curled into a strange half-smile. It was one that she grew up seeing. They had started their careers at roughly the same time, had beaten each other to their targets, had partnered up in what was a month of assassin-hell with the number of weeds they've had to pull out together. Before Legacy was ever Legacy, just a brat of about 17 and filled with the purpose of finding the father she lost: Amadeus had been a friend, an enemy, and an occasional lover.

That never stopped Kandros for seeing him at his darkest - killer, terrorist, escape artist. He was at some point a target for the Cabal when there was a series of supposed random bombings all over Palaven. They had never caught him and neither did they find evidence that proved it was him.

Only, all three of them did know it was him, and Kandros was never one to forgive the wicked.

"Not exactly," He motioned at the Geth. "He's all patched up. Only, I barely did shit."

"Don't tell me—" Legacy noted Kandros drawing her sidearm, even as her own fingers twitched to grab the sword strapped to her hips.

Where the geth had been torn by bullets was now the old armor the Commander had left behind. It had been welded on by the geth himself. As he stood, Legacy triggered the shields to keep it in place.

Its single blue light turned to her.

She asked, "Can you understand me?"

"Yes," The geth replied.

"Are you going to attack me?"

"No."

"I know your kind, heard of what you're capable of. I may have spared you but I haven't decided whether I trust you."

"Incorrect. You have not heard of us. We have heard of you."

That got Kandros to activate her biotics, and even Amadeus besides her had his hand dangerously close to his sidearm. "How?"

"Files salvaged from Normandy and the Old Machines. Objects left behind by Alenko Commander. You are... an anomaly. You are not where you are supposed to be, not who you are supposed to be. The Old Machines know this. They know you. But we have found you first."

"Old Machines? Do you mean the Reapers?" Kandros asked.

"Reapers. A superstitious title originating with the Protheans. We call those entities the Old Machines."

"And as far as I know the Geth work for the Reapers." Legacy added.

"Negative. We oppose the Old Machines. It is the heretics who have chosen them to build their future. Alenko Commander opposes these Old Machines. You are his ally. A collaboration would be mutually beneficial."

"Give me a reason to trust you. Answer my questions. Truthfully."

"Reaching a consensus." The geth replied and a moment passed before it began to speak again. "Consensus reached. If it is within our capacity, we will answer your inquiries."

"Good. What did you mean by they know me?" Legacy walked to the side of the shield, the geth's light followed her.

"Collector involvement with the Old Machines was thwarted by you since Alenko Commander's death. Progress slowed down by 36%. Former Shepard Major, former Alliance Officer, head of the Dominion—you are an anomaly. The Old Machines have not predicted your involvement."

"Progress of what? Do you know what the Reapers are trying to do?"

A moment. An annoying buzz. "Insufficient data."

"Are the two involved for certain?"

"Data estimates a 85.87% chance of involvement."

It wasn't too far from her estimation, she nodded. "Do you know why the Collectors are working for the Reapers?"

Another long buzz. "Insufficient data."

Legacy put her hands behind her back. "What were you doing down there at Alchera?"

"Originally, it was to study Alenko Commander. But new data has flooded this platform. Former Shepard Major, you have caught the eye of the Old Machines—we wish to understand why."

"Don't tell me you've predicted this." Amadeus turned large black eyes to her. His subtones amused and disbelieving all at once. "That your mind could conjure up a plot of this magnitude—"

"I don't treat this like a game, Mad." Legacy answered quickly before Kandros could blow up in his face. "How can my involvement turn the Reapers to me? It was Alenko who beat Sovereign, who discovered the Reapers were coming."

A moment before another buzz. "Insufficient data."

"But they are after me?"

"Yes."

"How close are they to finding me?"

"Until today we were not aware you truly existed. Files outdated, tampered. The Old Machines will find it difficult to pinpoint your coordinates."

"They won't find me. Not unless I want them to." She turned to Kandros and Amadeus and nodded towards the door. They gave her the same measured looks before they headed out, leaving Legacy behind them.

She turned back to look at the platform. "If we're going to work together, I will need to know your name."

"Geth."

"That'll be a bit confusing. I need to differentiate you from the others."

"We are all geth." He opened his arms. "There are currently 1,183 programs active in this platform."

Legacy turned back fully, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides. She had remembered Lor approaching her in the same fashion, hands behind his back. Eyes larger and black. "Only?"

The geth's light flickered again, as if to fathom what she could possibly mean. But he said nothing.

She smiled at him. "My name is Legion, for we are many."

"Christian bible. The gospel of Mark. Chapter five, verse nine. We acknowledge this verse as an appropriate metaphor."

She nodded before removing the shield around him and leaving the medbay.

* * *

"So, game plan?"

Legacy entered the boardroom. Amadeus leaned back against his chair while Kandros crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"Nothing has changed. Just that we have found some proof, albeit something technical to transcribe into our databases for when the time comes. We'll ask Legion more questions and then we move on to the next phase."

"Legion. Hah." The drell smiled. "Can't say I'm surprised, Allie."

Alice. That was the name she went by when they met. Legacy had never managed to convince him to drop it. She supposed it was because he wanted to be privy to a time where no one else but him knew she existed. "Now, we'll need to split up. One team goes to Palaven and the other to Thessia."

"Asari?" Kandros pushed off the wall and approached the table.

"Convincing the most influential race in the galaxy will persuade the others to follow. But we need the turian's military might as early as possible. Can't fight a war without warriors."

"Legacy, I always wondered about all this." Kandros crossed her arms. "How sure are you that it will lead to war?"

"The Prothean ruins showed me visions of burning civilizations. Masses of homeworlds, gone. Believe me, Kandros. We need fleets." She activated her omni-tool. "But first, we need to find the slavers. The ones sending the Collectors non-human samples. Barns has discovered that there is an asari slaver as well, with an MO that makes use of Omega as a bridge. Kandros," She turned to her friend. "I want you on that."

"And you'll go to Palaven alone?"

"And what am I? Varren shit?" Amadeus crossed his arms. "Face it, Kandros. You'd be better off in Omega than any of us. I'll be Allie's support while you help us make the war more convincing to the asari. Meantime, we can handle the more devious plans in your homeworld." His lips curled up again into the half-smile. "Don't worry. No explosions."

Legacy marveled at Nyreen's control to not killing the drell, though the click of her mandibles was enough warning for him to back off with his hands held up. Legacy spoke before they could start arguing. "I'll send you a friend. Do you remember Saragael? She will provide support."

"So, you've finally decided that Dominion should mobilize?" If Legacy was reading the shifting of her face plates right, she'd say it was somewhere between amusement and relief. Amadeus, on the other, crossing his arms over his chest with his lips cats into a frown.

"Not all of them at once. I'll send each one a task."

"Saragael. Sounds like a prissy name. What could she do?" Amadeus smirked.

"Other than being a deadly assassin-engineer? She married a matriarch's granddaughter. Has some sway in Ilium too. And I'm talking kingpin, not petty info broker."

Kandros' eyes widened. "Sweet Saragael? Legacy, we need to talk about the awful influence you have over your friends."

Legacy smiled. "Don't I know it."


	25. Chapter 22

_I almost missed this update because I thought only one week had past (craziness). _

_Thank you for the reviews (I always reply to those who review and are signed in). So dark lover, many many thanks for taking the time to drop a word in and give your compliments. Also welcome to those who have joined in that have followed/favorite-d/kudos-ed. And to Elantil: more power to you._

_Hope this chapter finds you all well._

Chapter 22

It was a struggle to reach the decision to return to Cipritine but when he did, he had expected the repercussions to be severe. He willed his instincts to be wrong, just this once.

First, it was his team on Omega. When he broke the news, there was a collective mixture of saddened yet understanding looks. He expected at least that much even after he said he wouldn't be gone for long.

"You're going to miss me becoming a father at this rate." Butler hinted, loudly, as Garrus packed what he needed.

Another equally upset Erash, if not more so since he had left his room and he barely ever did, stood by the doorway, all four of his eyes narrowed. The only other time he had emerged from his room was when Legacy had walked out on them—

That was not something Garrus wanted to remember. Not now.

Erash watched silently, keeping an eye out for things that he thought Garrus might miss. He stared at them purposefully, as if willing them to vanish and thus hinder Garrus' travel back to Palaven.

"Butler, Nalah isn't due for a few months. I'll be back before then."

"That's what they all say. But once you're in sunny Cipritine, why would you come back to smelly, overpopulated Omega?"

Garrus clicked the lock of his sniper case shut. "You know why."

Butler sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Daily updates, boss. That's all Nalah asks."

"Fair enough."

Sidonis strode in then, his stance upright and chest puffed out. His face revealed nothing to Garrus, but the tone he could hardly fake. "I've sent you a few files through your secure channel, as you requested."

He nodded. "Thanks. Take care of the team for me."

"Would prefer you send an update every few hours. Otherwise, the bare- Melanis would never shut up."

Garrus chuckled lightly; half out of amusement, half out of relief that Sidonis was trying to be a little more pleasant towards Mel. "I get you. But I just agreed to daily updates. It will have to do. I'll clock in at the same hour every day, twenty-hundred, Galactic Standard. If you hear nothing from me a few hours passed that time, then maybe you should start worrying."

"Are you kidding me, boss? Melanis would hijack a frigate for you. And you'd know we'd all help." Butler laughed, hands reenacting old school guns that Garrus had seen in an earth vid once. "Guns blazing."

"Try not to get into too much trouble with Aria by taking her ships. We're on her bad side as it is."

"But Crappy Legacy is so crappy." Butler grumbled, flopping down on one of the couches with a huge sigh. Garrus tried to tame a small growl. The new Legacy was just so starkly different—she had lacked synergy with the rest of Archangel that one time they asked for her assistance in the field. Not to mention, her Intel just wasn't as thorough. There were times when Garrus wanted her to be their next target, just so she would go away. "She makes it so easy to one up her. I mean, if Real Legacy were around—"

"That is not something we bring up in polite conversation anymore, Butler." Mierin walked in with a frown. She stood in front of Garrus, her stance ramrod straight. "Just here to relay a message, boss."

Garrus halted his packing, tilting his head to the side. "From whom, Mei?"

"Melanis said, quote, 'Don't you dare go, you prick. You're making Grundan bawl.' End quote." She shrugged. "For a turian she knows a lot of human insults, boss."

"Oooh, someone is undermining rank." Butler said unhelpfully. Sidonis shook his head at him. "What say you, boss? To the gallows, she goes?"

Garrus dismissed the man with a wave of his talons and a shake of his head. He may have read most of the book on idioms, studied them even, but Butler was just too difficult to understand in general. And even then, it wasn't entirely worth it.

He counted what little of his belongings he wanted to take with him. He had every intention of returning. Normally, he would have ignored the messages Sol sent his way. But his gut was clenching painfully – this time, it was different – and he would regret it if he didn't go.

Family. He wasn't sure he could call them that anymore with all the time he spent apart from them, with how they always came last in his list of priorities.

Shepard and himself had talked about family once or twice. During those nights when he was still in HQ, cleaning his guns, and she'd walk in exhausted from whatever she did for Aria. Sometimes there was blood crusting on her usually pristine black armor, sometimes there wasn't. But most nights she had a new bottle of wine, New Contact, and other notable vintages from Thessia that smelled pleasant, even to him.

"You ever think of going back to Cipritine?" She asked once to fill the silence.

The cloth in his hands came up black with the stink of iron. His eyes fixed on the mouth of his sniper rifle. "Once or twice. Not really though. My family in Palaven—they have a whole life outside of me now. When I'm there I feel like I don't belong."

She leaned on her elbows. "Tell me about it?"

Garrus looked at her, eyes shifting. "My dad always used to say, 'Do things right or don't do them at all.' In an ideal world, that'd be just about the best thing anyone can ever say.

"Only it's not. We don't live in the ideal world. And no one gives a damn about what's right, just what's easy. The red tape says it all. The crime rate in places like Omega and Ilium is all the proof anyone needs.

"We didn't see eye-to-eye, as humans would say. Finally, it escalated into a fight. It hasn't been the same since."

"So what's the point of shaping Omega into this ideal?"

He told himself it was the alcohol in her system talking, making her cheeks flush and her voice low. But her eyes were clear, looking at his face. Searching, always searching.

That got his blood boiling for a minute as his hands clenched and unclenched, cleaning rag dropped. Garrus wasn't sure he wanted to interpret the reasons for this reaction.

"The point?"

"Your father was the one who ingrained in you this concept of justice. You may not agree with the means, but the ideals are the same. Don't you think maybe your problems with him are rather childish? Something you can set aside easily?"

"You sound like you didn't have problems with your own father."

She smiled at him. There was something mysterious about it. "I owe my father everything. There is no room for hate."

He snorted. She laughed. Yeah, impossible.

"Besides, without him we wouldn't have met under these circumstances."

"Well, that would be a shame now, wouldn't it?" He laughed too and she took another sip from her glass. "But really Legacy, too much time has passed. It's, well, awkward."

"It's nothing like being here with Archangel, is it?"

"Mm-hmm. I suppose we could say we're a family by choice."

"A Legion." She nodded. "Bond brothers. I understand the concept." She smiled. "Family."

"Yeah."

"Wait," She sat up straighter and blinked.

"What?"

"Did you just say 'we'?"

He feigned ignorance then, picking up the rag and resuming his cleaning. He caught her actually pouting then, her eyes narrowed as she continued to drink. Garrus had wanted to laugh out loud but then it wouldn't do to give himself away.

Garrus didn't think he would ever be seeing her again. He doubted he wanted to.

"Boss!"

Grundan came running towards him just as he was about to make that final step into the frigate. A family of humans had already passed him, so did a few turians and an elcor. Grundan held in his hands something blue and fluffy. When he reached finally reached Garrus, Grundan thrust out both his hands to give it to him. "I know it isn't exactly cold in Cipritine but I wanted to give this to you."

"What is it?" Garrus picked it out of the stockier man's hands. It was rare for humans to be bigger than turians, but this delicately woven thing seemed out of place for both of them.

Grundan turned red, shifting nervously in place. "A scarf. Wrap it around your neck to keep warm."

Garrus looked at it, hands running through the fabric. It would have been nice to have had this when he went to Noveria. That thought got Garrus to chuckle under his breath. "Thanks, Grundan. I'll never know when I'll need to stay warm."

"You don't like it?"

"It's not that. More like, hmm... What made you think to give it to me?"

Grundan shrugged before showing a small, nervous smile. "Le- A mutual friend said you'd understand if I said it was my father who taught me how to do it."

Garrus' grip on the scarf became tighter. Ah. Yes. It always went back to that, didn't it?

He boarded the frigate that was headed for the Citadel but not without receiving very angry looks from Melanis and Erash, and a few tears from Sensat, Grundan and Mierin. He shook Sidonis' hand and gave a nod and a clap on the back to everyone else from his team, save Nalah and Sensat, who insisted he give them hugs. Garrus felt then, as he boarded the ship and looked back one, two, three times, that he was leaving everything he wanted to take with him.

He was going to return. That, he swore.

* * *

Cipritine was by far the most beautiful city Garrus had ever known.

He was well traveled by turian standards. He'd been to Thessia a handful of times and admired the asari and the dusky hue of their sky. Sur'kesh had been lush with green and smelled distinctly sweet like levo fruit. The Citadel that he had called home for a while was far too impersonal and busy. Though he could easily claim that it had been the most convenient out of all the places he had lived in. There was also all those places he had been to as part of Alenko's team. They'd been to every planet of nearly every race.

Earth was sketchier in his memories, almost pure imagination even, as he had never been there himself. He had heard of the expanse of oceans, the deep blue color of the sea and the blue of the sky. He supposed his imaginings combined with half-remembered vids beat most of the homeworlds he'd seen in person.

Nothing, however, beat Palaven. Cipritine, most of all.

Garrus could say he was a little biased, having grown up in the capital. Cipritine was a busy city. Understandably, the population consisted mostly of turians with the volus a close second. There were also many asari and the occasional salarian and hanar. A rare sight would be a human, what with the history of the Relay 314 Incident to muddy relations along. There would be a war veteran or some xenophobic fool that would spice things up a little but there was nothing that escalated beyond control. Quarians were in a similar bind, as they had an unsavory reputation as well. If he hadn't met Tali, he'd have to admit that he might have felt the same way about quarians as everyone else did. Rarer still would be a krogan, and that was many times more awkward than anyone would like; a mix between harboring hatred and sympathy for them tended to do that.

The land itself was naturally hard for anyone or anything without natural plates. All local fauna and flora had some way to combat radiation. Otherwise, there were people in hardsuits and radiation patches all the time. The landscape consisted mostly of sand and rock. There was the occasional hill with plants but as apex predators they fed more on meat than anything else save for tupari and a few other greens. What little water was around however, was a beautiful sapphire color—but other than that, little of what was naturally there in Palaven was worth the a tourist stop.

In other words, it wasn't the people or the sights that made Cipritine a marvel; it was the architecture.

Every building was made of what was called Cipritine glass. None of that steel that a human general once mentioned, or what they used to create frigates with. None of that held a candle to the durability and sheen of this glass. Next to that, it naturally absorbed the radiation, making it less harsh for any visiting race, thus most structures were made of the material.

Then there was the skillful manipulation of the resource. Buildings were fashioned with huge columns, precise and expert frescoes, high ceilings and open air. Everything was clean, sharp, pristine.

Walking out of the ship, admiring once again the magnitude and brilliance of the city and the history behind every image, every sculpted piece—he knew that he had returned to some place he had forgotten while being in a controlled environment like the Citadel or in a dump like Omega. He had returned to his territory, his terrain, where his eyes were clearer and his ears sharper.

"Garrus!"

He sensed the call before it happened and he turned to see his younger sister. Solana was waiting near the exit, one arm stretched to call for his attention as she waved it around. When their eyes met, she put her hand down and he walked towards her. The weight of his bag was heavy with the shadows of what he left behind in Omega.

"Sol," He reached out to grab her arm but she jumped him instead. Chuckling as he had the wind knocked out of him, he said: "You look well."

"And you—" She took a step back to study him. Familiar green eyes roved from his feet up to his face. "Well, I wasn't expecting much. Now that you're not with C-Sec."

He turned away, lifting his bag higher up his shoulder. Garrus began to tread out the doors, hailing a skycar from the transit hub. "How is mom?"

He felt rather than saw Solana's glare as they got into the car. His luggage took a seat between them as Garrus channeled his omni-tool to take them to his house's coordinates.

His sister's gaze never wavered. "Why?"

"What? I can't ask about my own mom?"

"You didn't seem to care all that much. Not with the way you were ignoring us."

"I was... preoccupied."

"Preoccupied? Spirits, Garrus. What kind of C-Sec officer, oh, no- _former_ C-Sec officer with no wife or job- what kind of things were you preoccupied with that you couldn't even see your sick mother?"

Alenko. Reapers. Collectors. Omega.

He could enumerate a hundred different valid excuses but still they paled in comparison to his responsibilities as a son.

"She looks for you, you know, when she... When she remembers. It's getting less now, though."

The number of times she looked for Garrus? Or, the number of times she remembered? The answer to that would be horrible either way. An apology didn't seem to cut it at all, so he didn't say anything during the entire ride to his house.


	26. Chapter 23

_Hello, everyone I hope this chapter finds you well. Also, please leave me a review/comment if you can. Enjoy!_

_Small reference to A Bullet for Your Sins, the Mass Effect 3 comic._

**Chapter 23**

The Vakarian Villa was home once. He'd grown running around the place, being taught how to be a true turian, a soldier. Childhood friends he hadn't contacted in years came to mind: Priscilla, Orion, Lupin- he wondered what they were all like now, what they were doing.

Thoughts came to a screeching halt when he remember the villa had also been a cage. Garrus didn't want to dwell on that, however.

The Vakarians had been an old and affluent family. They still were, in the sense that every member had risen up the Hierarchy on their own abilities and merits. An exception had yet to exist. There was no black sheep that might drag the name through the mud.

Maybe his father always thought Garrus would be that one Vakarian. Maybe that's why he held on too hard, drove him too far. Again, he didn't want to dwell on that.

They drove in through the open gate and got off the skycar in silence. Garrus lifted the handle of his bag higher over his shoulder and took a deep breath before entering.

"Dad's in the study." Solana all but muttered as she left towards the direction of his mother's room. He had wanted to go in there first but it seemed like Solana was having none of that.

Steeling himself, he went to his father's study and pinged in.

"Enter."

With his breath held, Garrus opened the door and saw his father for the first time in three years.

As a Vakarian, Tyrus had reached the pinnacle of honor. He had been a decorated C-Sec officer, a symbol of the best Palaven could offer to the Council. He held the trust of Primarchs of the past and present and of Generals of distinction; a man of honor. To any female turian (or, xenophile, though his father would shudder to think of any female that wasn't turian), he was a prize and an ideal. The colony markings matched his onyx plates and despites his age he stood tall and met his adversaries and friends in the eye when he spoke to them.

This was more intimidating than his near death experience with the Blood Pack, which was a feat by itself as at that time he was running from about 20 vorcha with both his assault and sniper rifles on their last thermal clips.

Now, he had no gun or weapons. Not that shooting his own father had ever been an option to solving their differences. Or, rather, he HAD considered it, but Garrus clung onto that last strand of filial piety he had in him.

His father was looking out the window, his back towards him and his hands behind his back. He took his time even as Garrus shuffled closer and cleared his throat as softly as he possibly could, just so it wouldn't appear like he was trying to call for his attention.

"You'd think you'd go see your mother first."

It was an oddly casual tone, coming from Tyrus Vakarian—even his subtones came out clean. There was no hint of spite, no angle to try make him the bad guy or the disobedient son. It sounded more than anything like an observation, a description of fair weather.

"Solana said you wanted to see me, sir."

His father approached his desk, motioning for his son to sit in front of him. Garrus only hesitated for a second before approaching. "Why now?"

"Sir?"

"Your sister's been trying to get through to you since you told her you've left C-Sec," Garrus almost didn't flinch. But his father caught enough of it that his grey eyes narrowed. "Why did you finally decide to come home?"

Garrus felt the twitching of his fingers, that part of his brain telling him that it was time to pull the trigger, seal the deal. Only there was no lie he could say that sounded believable or intelligent. Furthermore, the truth sounded flaky and upsetting. Either way, it all sounded like, as had he learned from _Idioms for Aliens_: bullshit.

"It was off. Urgent. I thought at first it might have been mom—but I heard from Solana she was fine, despite the sickness." Garrus paused. "It was my gut, mostly. Other than that, I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Where were you before coming here?"

Garrus paused again, longer this time. "Omega."

"What were you doing there?"

His hand landed softly on his father's desk. He tapped all three of his talons against its surface. "I'm sure you have a good guess." _Or spies, _remained unsaid.

"Humor me."

"Fine," He looked down at his hand for a moment, shifting in his seat so that the majority of his body would face his father, and then he started tapping his feet and couldn't stop. "I was doing in Omega what I couldn't do in the Citadel: get things done."

His father didn't so much as speak or raise his voice. There was no long talk about principles or ethics, or actions and consequences. Tyrus Vakarian merely sat there, leaning back against the plush red cover of his divan and breathed a two toned sigh. His father looked older then than he ever did, less imperious than Garrus thought possible. In a lot of ways, that was worse than any amount of yelling.

Still, he didn't let his guard down as his father sat up straighter and met his eyes. "We have much to discuss. But not now. Go see your mother, eat dinner, settle down. Tomorrow, we'll talk."

* * *

Garrus didn't know what to expect really when he went into his mother's room this time. A lot of machines, monitors blipping and the stink of gels and medication that stung his nose, maybe.

Instead, he found his mother smiling and speaking softly to Solana. There were no machines and the room was clean and smelled of his mother: iron and steel.

Aelia Vakarian had been in her prime, a force of nature. In her much younger years, still going by the name of Aelia Lentinus, she had rewritten the engineering syllabus to accommodate her, having learned everything in half the scheduled time. Furthermore, she had added had added in canonical textbooks her discoveries about the mass effect field theory and from a student she had become professor at the tender age of 18. Before she got married, she had been an engineer a class of her own, having been a major proponent of artillery design that's still used till today. On one of the last projects before her illness had finally forced her to retire early, she had been one of the heads of the design team that created the models for the Normandy; had machinated that Tantalus drive core from theory to reality.

She was quirky though, upbeat like Tali on a dextro-chocolate high tenfold. Clumsy in all things but tech. Kind to the point of naivety. There were times while Garrus was growing up when he had caught his mom crying after being yelled at by his father, usually because there was something fundamental she had forgotten to do around the villa or because she had spoken inappropriately towards an important guest. Geniuses and prodigies tended to be that way. Mordin, for example, was superior to his own kind in intelligence and yet lacked delicacy. Shepard was—he didn't want to go there.

Truthfully, if there was any parent he wasn't quite living up to, it was his mother. Only, she had never forced him, never pushed him too hard that he thought he might break. Growing up, he'd watched his mother work - the level of mastery she applied to her machines, the love and attention she paid to them and yet she managed to divide her time between her kids and her work. Garrus had always liked the idea of being a Spectre, a concept that his family opposed, but for all his faults, she was always proud of what he had achieved.

This wasn't the first time Garrus had seen his mom ailing in bed. But the difference between then and now was that then he was at a crossroads between bending to his father's will or following his dreams. Back then, it was simply worded: become a Spectre or abandon your mom.

The choice was very simple. Black and white. If he was the boy he was then, he would feel like shit now for only coming when his mom seemed so much older than he last saw her; more wear on her plates, a paler sheen to her coloring, a softer presence.

The moment she saw him she grinned so broadly, beckoning him to walk to her faster. He could only comply with a swing to his step and a chuckle against his throat. There was no weakness in her eyes as he drew closer, no sickness in her smile she pulled him close, grabbing first at his elbow and then holding him in a long embrace.

"Garrus," His mother said in a voice that rasped harshly but her subtones remained strong and warm. "You're finally back."

Solana was sitting at her bedside opposite him, holding his mom's hand until he entered then she moved away slightly, their fingertips now barely touching. She gave him a strange impassive look, one he didn't expect from his little sister. During the embrace, she had looked away and the impassiveness gave way to near sadness as his mother leaned her forehead against his.

With an old strength that he remembered from when he was child, his mother pulled his hand down so he sat beside her. "You're finally back," she repeated even more softly.

"Mom," He couldn't help the shifting of his plates and the hum in his throat. "You look well."

"Son, you don't tell your sick mother she looks well. She sees through your lies."

He laughed at the playfulness of her tone. "I'm serious, mom. I was half afraid I was coming back to—well."

She nodded, leaning back against her pillows. "The sickness has progressed bad enough that it's been troublesome to move about."

"You're not supposed to be moving about, mom."

"Hmph, Solana, you listen too well to those doctors. What do they know?' She replied to Solana's comment in a gentle but knowing tone. "If I'm dying, I might as well be doing what I want to do."

Solana rolled her eyes, standing. "I'll get you something to drink."

"All right. Make it cold, dear. I'm sure Garrus would want some Tupari juice too?"

"Sure."

"On it." Solana nodded, her gaze lingering at the both of them before she made her way out.

His mother sighed, facing him with clear eyes. "I think that child is tired of taking care of me."

"Don't talk nonsense, mom. Solana loves you."

"And so do you but that hasn't stopped you from going out and having fun." She smiled, hands finding his as she held them both in hers. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

"Called bluff. Try again."

He coughed, laughing. "It's—I don't think it's a good enough excuse to not have been around all this time. Mom, I'm sorry. And I-"

What could he say? He really didn't want her to know: what if it made her health worse. The very notion made his gut clench- that he be the reason for her suffering was unbearable.

"Shh. It's all right, dear. You're here now."

"But-"

Her grip tightened. "And you're going to tell me what you've been doing. I don't want any garbage about how it will worry me. Otherwise, you won't get my blueprints for a sniper that I've been working on."

His mandibles flared at that. "Spirits, you've been working? You're supposed to be getting bed rest."

She waved him off. "Don't be silly. I'm sick, not senile."

"Mom—wait, neither dad nor Sol knows?"

She grinned at him, blinking. "I've been very discreet," she whispered softly, shifting her gaze to the door. "Did we ever tell them about any of the mischief we've done together?"

Garrus tipped his head back and laughed. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason why he was a bad turian. "Never."

"Good. Now, give me all the juicy details. Don't leave anything out, I'll know."


End file.
